


BLOOD OF THE FALLEN

by addielouwho



Series: BLOOD RAIN [2]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Gore, Fluff, M/M, Religion, Smut, a lot of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-12-11 05:23:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11707668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addielouwho/pseuds/addielouwho
Summary: It happened. It FINALLY happened!Athelstan had Ragnar back and he wasn't about to let him out of his sight any time soon (or at all for that matter) but some things are happening, strange things, and unbeknownst to them, someone is watching and biding his time, waiting to strike at the precise moment...





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S HERE! THE SEQUEL!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! I promised myself that I would give you guys a few chapters of pure smut and fluff and so far, I'm keeping that promise;)
> 
> But be warned, there is angst a-coming!

 

“Are you really eager to get rid of it?”

 

“It makes you look like a hobo, now stop your squirming and let me work, unless you want a wonky beard?”

 

Ragnar pouted in the blood red armchair where he sat, but did as Athelstan said and stayed put, letting Athelstan trim off his tangled beard. The strands fell to the floor in a heap, until his beard was closely trimmed against his face.

 

“Couldn't we keep it slightly long?” Ragnar implored.

 

“Father, you look homeless when it's long,” said Gyda, giggling. “Just trust us.”

 

“I do trust you, I'm just—not used to these modern styles,” He was referring to the blue jeans he was currently wearing and his dark blue long sleeve shirt. The fabrics felt strange to him, so different from his world.

 

Athelstan stopped clipping, declaring, “There! All done. Why don't you go look in the mirror?”

 

Ragnar looked up at Athelstan and smiled hesitantly, before standing up and flashing over to a golden gilded mirror. He looked at himself, at his trimmed beard and bald head, his new clothes that looked so strange on him, though Athelstan had assured him he looked good.

 

“Well?” Athelstan asked, sweeping up the remains of his beard off the floor. “Do you like it?”

 

“It's…” Ragnar struggled to find the right words.

 

“Different,” offered Lagertha, dressed in her new clothes.

 

“Yes, different,” said Ragnar said, turning back to them. “But different does not mean  _ bad _ .”

 

“Of course,” said Athelstan, throwing the hair in the trash. Then he walked over to Ragnar and took his hand, kissing it, making him feel all warm inside, like he was alive. “I like you like this, just as I like the old you.”

 

Ragnar placed his other hand on the side of Athelstan’s face and brought him in for a chaste kiss, not caring that they had audience members. He just got Athelstan back, he was going to take every opportunity he had to kiss him and hold him close.

 

“I love you,” he whispered as they pulled apart.

 

“As I love you,” said Athelstan, patting his hand. “Now come on, time for our English lessons of the day.”

 

Ragnar’s eyes lit up. He loved these lessons, enjoying the quickness at which he was able to pick up this new language. He remembered their first lesson, when Ragnar had asked Athelstan how to say ‘I love you’ in English and the way Athelstan’s eyes crinkled with happiness. He liked to ask questions that got a happy reaction out of him, he felt as though Athelstan hadn't had that in a long time.

 

He hadn't either.

 

He let Athelstan lead him into what he called his study, Athelstan directing him to sit in his wooden chair whilst he sat on the piano bench.

 

“What do you call that again?” Ragnar asked, pointing to the piano.

 

“A piano,” smiled Athelstan, pulling out a legal pad and pen.

 

“And you play music on it, yes?”

 

“Yes,” said Athelstan. “I'll play for you, I promise, but for now...let's begin, shall we?”

 

They spent the next few hours learning sentence structure and how to conjugate verbs, Athelstan very much feeling like a dreaded English teacher. Ragnar retained the information well, stringing along sentences with relative ease. They heard Lagertha and Gyda in the next room, doing the same, although Gyda had a very different method.

 

She taught her Mother English through phrases and sayings, taking her around the house and having her name every object in it. Athelstan thought that was a good idea and made a note to himself to do that with Ragnar another time.

 

After a few hours, Ragnar was ready to do something different.

 

“How do you say: I want to fuck you on that piano?” Ragnar teased, giving him bedroom eyes.

 

Athelstan tilted his head, “You know how to say it. Why don't you just  _ do it _ ?”

 

Ragnar smirked mischievously and flashed forward, throwing Athelstan on top of the piano, it creaking with the strain.

 

“ _ Careful _ !” Athelstan warned. “This is a century old piano, it cannot be replaced.”

 

Ragnar sighed, “I promise I won't break it. Now, let me have you.” He leaned forward and captured Athelstan’s mouth into a hot kiss, immediately licking his tongue into his mouth.

 

Athelstan moaned, relinquishing his mouth to Ragnar willingly. Ragnar ran his hands over Athelstan’s finely tailored suit, taking care to remove the suit jacket. He remembered with a smile how angry Athelstan got when he tore the last one.

 

Athelstan in return, tugged on Ragnar’s shirt, hiking it up over his head and throwing it across the room before their mouths came back together. Ragnar fumbled with Athelstan’s tie, nearly choking him before finally removing it and moving on to his dress shirt, which he divulged him of quickly.

 

He kissed down Athelstan’s neck, laving at the smooth skin there, before moving further down. He nipped bites across his collarbones, still a little bit disappointed that he couldn't mark him up, but he'd take what he could get. He moved down to his pecs, taking a nipple into his mouth, causing Athelstan to cry out in pleasure.

 

Athelstan raked a hand over his bald head, panting, “You should grow your hair out. I'd love to see you with a modern style.”

 

Ragnar let go of the nipple and smiled up at him, “Whatever you wish, my love.”

 

He moved his hands to the buckle holding up Athelstan’s dress pants and quickly removed both of them, leaving Athelstan clad only in his underwear and dress shoes. Athelstan didn't like being the only one almost fully naked and began unfastening Ragnar’s jeans, shucking them down where Ragnar kicked them off to the side.

 

Ragnar began kissing down Athelstan’s exposed leg, until he reached his shoes. With careful fingers, he unlaced them and pulled them off, revealing Athelstan’s perfect pale feet underneath the socks, which he quickly disposed of. He placed a kiss to the bottom of his sole before kissing down his thigh until he got to Athelstan’s covered cock, which was just begging to be released.

 

Ragnar teased his mouth over the fabric, alighting a fire in Athelstan, who gasped out loud and arched his back into his touch. Ragnar removed the last piece of garment off Athelstan, until he was completely naked, his cock hard against his stomach. Ragnar salivated at the sight.

 

“I will  _ devour  _ you,” he promised, running a hand up the length of Athelstan’s chest.

 

Athelstan locked eyes with him, blue on blue, and said, “ _ Do it _ .”

 

Not needing any further encouragement, Ragnar swooped down and wrapped his lips around Athelstan’s leaking cock, causing him to cry out. He took him down to the root, delighting in his zero gag reflex as Athelstan bucked his hips. Ragnar used his hand and held him down, although he was certain Athelstan was allowing him to. His little priest had gone and gotten so much stronger than Ragnar would even believe possible.

 

And he loved it.

 

He hollowed his cheeks, sucking him vigorously. He pulled back and teased the slit, collecting the pre-cum that gathered there. Athelstan moaned loudly, reveling in the pleasure that was so good he knew only Ragnar could give.

 

Ragnar pulled off and said, “I don't suppose you got any of that... _ lube,  _ do you?”

 

“Not on me, no,” said Athelstan, coming down from the edge of the high he had just come close to. “But there are other ways to open me up.”

 

“Oh?” Ragnar tilted his head, curious.

 

“Use your spit,” said Athelstan. “Lick me open with your mouth and fingers.”

 

Ragnar’s eyes lit afire, very much liking this idea. He motioned for Athelstan to bend his legs, who did so without questioning. He kissed his cock one more time before moving beyond it and to Athelstan’s entrance. He kissed his fluttering entrance before laving his tongue over it hotly, feeling Athelstan cry out.

 

He licked him open, probing his tongue inside him, before taking his hand and bringing it up to Athelstan’s mouth, who put his lips around the fingers eagerly. He licked the fingers and got them slick with spit, Ragnar watching him suck through hooded eyes. Reluctantly, he pulled his fingers out of his mouth and teased one over Athelstan’s wet entrance, before slipping it inside, quickly finding his sweet spot.

 

Athelstan’s cock jumped against his stomach once Ragnar hit his prostate.

 

“Like that, huh?” Ragnar smirked, adding another finger.

 

“ _ Ungh _ , yes!” cried Athelstan, bucking his hips.

 

Ragnar scissored him open, fucking him gently on his fingers, causing Athelstan to weep in pleasure.

 

“Fuck me!” Athelstan cried. “Just fuck me, already!”

 

Ragnar smirked, “Your patience will be rewarded, my love. Just one more finger, then I will fuck the life out of you.”

 

Ragnar added the last finger, stretching him open gloriously. He fucked him, hitting his prostate with each thrust of his fingers. Deciding Athelstan was prepared enough, he withdrew his fingers and removed his boxers. He spit into his hand, slicking up his cock. He leaned over Athelstan, grasping his curls and bringing him into a kiss. Athelstan grabbed one of his hands and entwined their fingers before Ragnar slowly breached him.

 

They both let out a low moan as Ragnar bottomed out. He stilled for a moment, letting themselves adjust before slowly starting a pace. He thrust his hips gently, fucking Athelstan with all of the love that he felt for him.

 

“ _ Harder _ ,” Athelstan demanded. “Faster.”

 

“Yes, my love.”

 

Ragnar picked up the pace, fucking into him harder, hitting his prostate with every thrust, making Athelstan see fireworks erupt behind his eyelids and the familiar tightening coil of heat in his belly.

 

“Oh, Ragnar!” Athelstan cried. “Fuck!” His head banged against the piano, it protesting loudly.

 

“Wasn't it you who lectured me about breaking the piano?” Ragnar grunted, smirking widely.

 

“Oh,  _ shut up _ , and fuck me!” Athelstan howled.

 

Ragnar grinned wolfishly, slamming into him with brute force, both of them losing themselves in the pleasure. Their hands remained intertwined throughout, neither one of them wanting to let go.

 

Soon, they were approaching the edge, together.

 

“I'm going to come, my love,” Ragnar groaned.

 

“Me too,” gasped Athelstan. “Come with me, come with me!”

 

Ragnar thrust a few more times, right against Athelstan’s prostate, then they were both coming, loudly and with passion.

 

They both groaned low once they were finished, Athelstan wrapping both of his arms around Ragnar’s shoulders and bringing him into a passionate kiss.

 

“I love you,” he said happily, as they pulled away.

 

“I love you too,” said Ragnar, resting his forehead against Athelstan’s. He kissed his cheek gently, before slowly pulling out, smiling when Athelstan whimpered a bit at the loss.

 

Athelstan sat up, and slid off the piano, searching for his clothes, Ragnar doing the same.

 

When they were done dressing, Ragnar grabbed Athelstan and pulled him against his chest, whispering, “You are my life, Athelstan.”

 

Athelstan turned in his arms and said, “As you are mine, Ragnar. Always and forever.”

 

“Always and forever,” Ragnar repeated, kissing him once more.

 

“Now, I have some other things I need to teach you about the modern age: cellphones.”

* * *

Ragnar and Athelstan sat on the couch in the living room, Ragnar had Athelstan seated in his lap with his smartphone in his hand. He was teaching him the basics of what it did.

 

Ragnar was fascinated.

 

“So, with just a press of a button, you may talk to anyone you like, no matter where they are in the world?” Ragnar asked.

 

“Basically,” said Athelstan. “Here, watch this.” He touched the phone app and went to his favorites, were Gyda was at the top of the list. He touched her name and hit the speaker button. She picked up after only one ring.

 

“Yes, what is it?” Gyda said, trying and failing to sound annoyed. “Mother and I are busy shopping.”

 

“Yes, I saw that you left,” said Athelstan.

 

“Well, we got bored of listening to you and Father  _ fuck _  like rabbits, so I suggested a little venture out into the real world.”

 

“How’s she handling it?”

 

“Quite well,” said Gyda. “Her control is remarkable.”

 

“I would expect nothing less of a shieldmaiden,” Athelstan teased. He looked to Ragnar, motioning to the phone.

 

Ragnar got the hint and said, “Gyda.”

 

“Father! Athelstan has you on speaker phone, does he?”

 

“I don't know what that is, but yeah, I guess,” Ragnar admitted sheepishly.

 

“Don't worry, you’ll pick it up in no time. Athelstan’s a good teacher,” her voice was dripping with innuendo. “Well, I must go. Mother wants my opinion on this  _ delicious  _ dress she picked out, we’ll be home in a few hours. Ta!” And with that, she hung up.

 

“Amazing,” Ragnar breathed.

 

“That's not all,” said Athelstan. He turned the phone over and pointed to a raised circle at the top, “ _ This _  is a camera.”

 

“A camera?” Ragnar questioned.

 

“It takes pictures, kind of like drawings but of real life, capturing things in real time. Like... _ this _ ,” he turned the phone back over and opened the picture app, where he selected the last picture he took.

 

Ragnar was shocked, “That's  _ me _ ?”

 

It was him. Athelstan had taken it last night, while Ragnar was sleeping peacefully in their bed. Athelstan thought the moment so precious, he had to capture it. To have a reminder of Ragnar and his beauty on him, at all times.

 

“Teach me,” implored Ragnar. “I want to take a picture of you.”

 

Athelstan laughed and opened the camera app, “See that button on the bottom of the screen? When you have what you want in your focus, touch the button with your fingertip and it will take the picture, you got it?”

 

Ragnar nodded eagerly and Athelstan handed him the phone. Ragnar held the phone up, having Athelstan’s beautiful face on the screen and he said, “Do something.”

 

“What?” Athelstan asked.

 

“Something to make this memorable.”

 

Athelstan thought for a moment before scrunching up his face into the silliest pose he could imagine.

 

Ragnar let out a laugh, saying, “That's it!”

 

He touched the button and immortalized Athelstan’s silly face for all time. When he was done, they looked at the picture together and had a good laugh.

 

“Do me! Do me!” Ragnar begged.

 

Athelstan giggled and held up the phone, taking a photo of Ragnar acting faux-serious, his arms and eyes crossed.

 

Athelstan fell into Ragnar’s arms, both of them laughing delightedly over the pictures they had taken.

 

Ragnar caressed Athelstan’s face, saying, “I do not believe I have been this happy and content in a long time.”

 

“Me neither,” Athelstan sighed. “Oh, Ragnar, I am so happy you are here.”

 

“Me too, Athelstan. Me too,” Ragnar looped his arm around Athelstan’s neck and brought him in close, kissing his head.

 

“Now,” said Athelstan, his eyes bright with mischief, “let me show you the TV.”

 

“You mean that thing,” Ragnar pointed to the mysterious black box set on the wall.

 

“Yes, that  _ thing _ ,” smirked Athelstan. He reached onto the coffee table and picked up two slender black sticks. “ _ These  _ are called remotes, this one—” he held up the larger one, “turns the TV on.” He pressed a button and the TV lit up.

 

Ragnar’s eyes went wide as a TV show began to play, “What is  _ this _ ?”

 

“It's called a TV show,” said Athelstan. “Think of it as moving pictures telling a story. There are over  _ thousands  _ of them.”

 

Ragnar was gobsmacked.

 

“ _ Incredible _ ,” he muttered, his eyes not leaving the screen. “Do they each have names, these... _ TV  _ shows?”

 

“Yes,” said Athelstan, smiling. “This one—” he pointed to the TV, “is one of Gyda’s favorites: The Borgias.”

 

“The...Borgias?” Ragnar questioned, staring at the people and their beautiful costumes sweeping about the screen.

 

“They were real people, living in the late 1400s. The head of the family, Rodrigo Borgia, was Pope, which was almost equivalent of being king of the world in that time. The Pope controlled the Vatican in Rome, Italy and the Papal States, as well as any King of the world who was loyal to the Catholic Church, which the Pope was the head of.”

 

Ragnar nodded, absorbing the information, “Men with that much power cannot be good, am I right?”

 

“Oh, yes,” said Athelstan. “Rodrigo and most of his family were as corrupt as they come. Gyda and I had the pleasure of meeting him, actually.”

 

“Oh?” Ragnar raised his brows.

 

“Yes, in Rome, 1494, at a masquerade ball at the Vatican. He was pleasant to us, and his mistress, the infamous Guilia Farnese.”

 

“And what then?” asked Ragnar, curious about Athelstan’s long past.

 

Athelstan hesitated, he didn't want to continue on, the memory of what had transpired that night still haunted him.

 

“Athelstan?” Ragnar was worried, Athelstan had gone quiet. “Did something bad happen?”

 

Athelstan sighed, steeling himself for what was to come.

 

“Ragnar, I have not been entirely truthful to you,” Athelstan said.

 

Ragnar stilled.

 

“Okay…” he said slowly. “Well, whatever it is, you can tell me. I won't get mad.”

 

Athelstan nodded and began, “It wasn't just me, Gyda, and Eli who walked the earth together.  _ Thorunn _  was with us as well.”

 

Ragnar’s eyes widened, “ _ Thorunn _ ?! But she—she left! She  _ abandoned  _ my son, their daughter!”

 

“I know. In her travels after she left, she came across the very village where Eli and I resided after he raised me. Eli found her one day and saw an opportunity. He tricked her into letting him feed her his blood, then brought her to me. I was weak from hunger and he bit her, causing me to lash out and almost kill her. I didn't but Eli killed her anyway, effectively making her one of us. For centuries she traveled with us, becoming a dear friend and family and I...I repaid her friendship by handing her over to die.”

 

Ragnar said nothing, just rubbed a hand over his back. He saw how much his admission wore at him.

 

“Eli, as I said before, is very powerful, and one of the reasons he is, is because he is  _ basically  _ the son of the First.”

 

“The...First?” Ragnar questioned.

 

“The First, as you may guess by the name, is the very first vampire in existence. He dates back to the dawn of time, son of the Devil himself.”

 

“ _ The Devil _ ?!” Ragnar was incredulous. “You mean, he's  _ real _ ?”

 

“Yes,  _ very _ ,” Athelstan chuckled darkly. “Anyways, The First resided in, can you guess?”

 

“Rome…” spoke Ragnar slowly.

 

“Yes. After the masquerade, He snatched us and brought us down into the catacombs, where he reigned as King of all the vampires. He was angry at Eli for leaving Him, over a millennium ago, and wanted revenge. Also, He claimed that He wanted us to pay, for creating a child vampire.”

 

“Gyda…” whispered Ragnar, shocked.

 

Athelstan nodded, “He knew that she wasn't a true child vampire, she was old enough to mature in her mind, but He needed an excuse to torment us. He made me make a choice, either choose between Eli or Thorunn to die, or let Gyda suffer a terrible fate by The First’s hand. I couldn't let Gyda die, I couldn't betray you, I just  _ couldn't _ !” He raged, putting his head in his hands.

 

“So I made a choice. I tried to choose Eli, but The First would not kill him, after all, he  _ was  _ His son.” Athelstan chuckled, without humor. “So I had no choice, but to pick Thorunn. I left her to die at the hands of that  _ monster _  and held Gyda fast to me in relief. After that, I was a changed man…” He looked up at Ragnar, his eyes filled with unshed blood tears, “Do you hate me now?”

 

“What? No, no my love,” Ragnar brought Athelstan's face into his hands and brought him close, “You  _ saved  _ my daughter. And I hold little love for Thorunn after she left my son.”

 

“She felt that she didn't deserve him, after what happened to her face,” explained Athelstan. “And there is this thing called postpartum depression, which I am almost  _ certain _  Thorunn suffered of after the birth of her child.”

 

“You must tell me more about it, once you are in better spirits,” Ragnar said, kissing Athelstan on the forehead.

 

“There's one more thing,” Athelstan said. “I never told Gyda the truth about what happened to Thorunn. I told her that Thorunn died willingly, to save her. I couldn't—I  _ couldn't  _ allow Gyda to see me for the monster that I am.”

 

“No, my love,” insisted Ragnar. “You are  _ not  _ a monster.”

 

“You don't know half the things I've done, the cruel, malicious acts I have committed over the centuries,” Athelstan said brokenly.

 

“Then tell me, when you’re ready. And I promise you, I will not tell Gyda what you have told me today. You have my word,” Ragnar kissed his forehead once more and pulled him close to him.

 

“Thank you,” Athelstan cried in his chest. “Thank you. I don't deserve you.”

 

Ragnar scoffed, “ _ I  _ don't deserve  _ you _ .”

 

“Then maybe, we deserve each other,” Athelstan laughed in his chest.

 

“I will  _ always  _ love you, do you understand?” Ragnar growled in his ear, before kissing him fiercely.

 

“I understand,” Athelstan sobbed and they kissed again.

 

Then he turned to the TV and saw the credits rolling.

 

“I believe we missed the show,” he laughed.

 

“I'm sure there’ll be another,” Ragnar chuckled, holding him close.

 

Gyda and Lagertha found them a few hours later, wrapped in each other’s arms on the couch, kissing passionately, the TV forgotten.

 

“You guys are truly insatiable!” Gyda laughed, exasperated, heaps of shopping bags in her arms.

 

“They are in love,” said Lagertha, smiling slightly, “they cannot help it.”

 

Ragnar laughed, “You know me so well, Lagertha.”

 

“Well, you  _ were _  my husband once.”

 

Athelstan said nothing, letting Ragnar hold him close.

 

After a moment, Ragnar looked down at Athelstan and said, “I  _ believe _  you promised you'd play that piano for me.”

 

Gyda lit up, dropping the shopping bags, “Oh, please do! I do so love to hear you play!”

 

“Well, then,” smiled Athelstan, standing up and offering a hand to Ragnar, “let me make good on that promise. After all, I'm a man of my word.”

 

He led the others back into his study, where he sat down at the piano.

 

“Any requests?” He asked Gyda.

 

“Claire de Lune?” She wasn't lost on the irony.

 

Athelstan chuckled a little before running his hands over the keys, playing the song beautifully.

 

Ragnar and Lagertha watched in awe, amazed at this wonderful piece of music that he played. Ragnar actually felt tears prick his eyes, seeing Athelstan so thoroughly enjoying his time playing. He knew he needed it, after what he had confessed to him earlier that day.

 

Ragnar promised himself to remind Athelstan everyday that he was  _ not  _ the monster he thought he was, that he was deserving of love, of Ragnar’s love.

 

When Athelstan struck the last note, Gyda broke into thunderous applause, Ragnar and Lagertha followed suit. Athelstan smiled shyly, the same smile Ragnar saw often in the old days, the one that Ragnar loved. Ragnar went over to Athelstan and sat down next to him on the piano bench.

 

“Did you enjoy it?” Athelstan asked.

 

“I  _ loved  _ it,” Ragnar assured him. “You must teach me.”

 

“You want to learn how to play piano?” Athelstan laughed.

 

“Why not?” Ragnar shrugged, “Maybe I'll end up better than you.” He elbowed Athelstan in the side, teasing.

 

Athelstan laughed and shoved him back.

 

“Okay, you two lovebirds,” said Gyda. “I think it's time we took Mother and Father out on  _ real  _ hunt.”

 

Athelstan’s eyes lit up, “Why, Gyda. I believe that is a  _ marvelous  _ idea.”

* * *

They left the house together, Ragnar threading his fingers with Athelstan’s as they walked down the street.

 

It was late afternoon, heading into the night, and the streets were still filled with people milling about, eating in restaurants, finishing up their shopping.

 

“How do we know which ones to kill?” Ragnar whispered to Athelstan.

 

“Well, Athelstan likes to kill the rude and evil,” said Gyda. “And so do I. It's fun to put them down.”

 

Athelstan didn't comment on that. He'd done more than just kill the rude and the evil the last century and a half, but he didn't mention it. He didn't want Ragnar to think him of more of a monster than he already was.

 

“Okay,” Ragnar nodded, “Let’s find some rude people.”

 

It didn't take long, as they were walking down the street, Athelstan and Ragnar hand in hand, they heard a group of young college boys, having come out of a pub and clearly slightly drunk, remark to each other:

 

“Gross. Guys aren't supposed to hold hands, that's just disgusting!”

 

“Yeah, I wonder which one likes to take it up the arse? I bet it's the smaller one, he looks like a submissive little bird.”

 

Athelstan and Gyda immediately whipped their heads around at those comments, Gyda practically snarling.

 

“I  _ hate  _ homophobes,” she growled.

 

“I think we just found our next meal,” Athelstan commented lightly.

 

They trailed after the group of slightly drunk college boys until they came across a darkened alley. Athelstan and Gyda nodded at each other, Lagertha and Ragnar watching as they rounded on the boys, throwing them with amazing strength into the dark alley.

 

“What the fuck, man?!” yelled one of the boys, laying across the alley floor.

 

“You know I really hate homophobes,” commented Athelstan, grabbing the boy and thrusting him up against the brick wall, holding him off the ground by his throat.

 

Gyda grabbed another boy, holding him down on the floor, before nodding to her Mother and Father to take the other boys. They jumped on them without hesitation, Lagertha already ripping out their throat. Ragnar, however, took his time, asking his victim:

 

“Why did you say those things about my love? Why must you be so hateful?” He held the boy down to the ground on his chest.

 

“Because...being  _ gay _  is wrong,” ground out the boy, stubborn, even in the face of death.

 

“Wrong answer,” Ragnar growled and he buried his teeth into the boy's throat.

 

When he was done, he noticed that Athelstan was still choking his victim, staring at him with hate-filled eyes before he too buried his fangs into his neck, draining him dry. Athelstan let the body fall to the ground with a look Ragnar recognized as being satisfied with his kill; Ragnar knew that look well, it sat on his face many a time in the past. Ragnar couldn't help but be a little turned on by that look. Oh, how he loved Athelstan and everything that came with him, new and old. 

 

When they were finished, they left the bodies to lay in the streets and left the alleyway, undetected. Athelstan wiped the blood from Ragnar’s mouth with a smile, before kissing him on the lips.

 

When they pulled away, Ragnar whispered, “You were  _ exquisite _ .”

 

“Not a monster?” Athelstan asked timidly.

 

“No more than me,” Ragnar assured, pulling him close as they walked back to the townhouse.

 

“Hey, Athelstan?”

 

“Yes, my love?”

 

“What's a homophobe?”

 


	2. TWO

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

 

“Come now, Athelstan. We promised my parents a good show.”

 

Athelstan shrugged, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it across the living room. All the furniture had been cleared away, to allow for Gyda and Athelstan’s sparring session. Ragnar and Lagertha stood spectating on the outskirts, patiently waiting for Gyda and Athelstan to start.

 

Gyda was back in her young adult form, feeling more comfortable this way. It was a funny day when Gyda decided to change back into her older form, the shock on Ragnar and Lagertha’s faces was priceless but they got used to it quickly. They were happy to see Gyda the age they’d never thought they'd see her reach.

 

“So, how do want to do this Athelstan? Fists or fangs?” Gyda smirked, rolling up the arms on her white long-sleeved sweater.

 

“How about a bit of both?” Athelstan suggested.

 

“Okay, as long you as promise not to hold back,” Gyda said.

 

“As long as you promise to do same.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Athelstan held out his arms, “Then let's begin, shall we?”

 

Gyda smiled wide and flashed to him, lashing out with her long fingernails, trying to scratch at his face but he dodged it, grabbing her arm and pushing her away.

 

She tried again, jumping up high to deliver a punch across his face, but he grabbed her fist at the last second and threw her across the room. She was getting angry now, wanting to prove to her parents that she was a warrior like them.

 

Her eyes bled into black and red and she charged at him, grabbing him around the waist and throwing him down on the ground, snapping her fangs in his face. Athelstan grimaced and flashed her around, so he was on top. She kicked up her legs, pushing him off of her and back up against the wall.

 

She flashed forward and grabbed him by the throat, raising him slightly off the ground. Athelstan let her have her moment before grabbing her arm and twisting it away from his throat, and holding her against him.

 

She grabbed his arm and twisted it away, flipping backwards, trying to kick him but he swiftly dodged and grabbed her ankle, throwing her across the room. She landed on her stomach but quickly got up, speeding towards him and lashing out her arms, trying to punch him. He dodged three in quick succession but she got him across the jaw with the fourth.

 

Ragnar and Lagertha winced as they heard the jaw pop out of place but Athelstan didn't seem bothered, in fact he was smiling as he jerked it back into place, not even wincing at the pain. Ragnar was incredibly impressed. 

 

Gyda tried to punch him again but Athelstan saw her move coming and jerked her arm, wrapping it around her back and pulling her to him, his fangs bared and at her neck.

 

The game was over.

 

They looked at Ragnar and Lagertha, who were incredibly impressed with their performance, clapping slowly. 

 

Athelstan let go of Gyda, who went to her Mother, who hugged her and said, “I always knew you’d be a great warrior.”

 

“Even though he bested me?” Gyda asked ruefully.

 

“A great warrior takes their failure with grace, and works to win another day,” Lagertha said wisely.

 

Ragnar ruffled Athelstan’s hair, messing up his perfect curly locks.

 

“You’ve went and grown up on me, Athelstan,” he teased.

 

Athelstan smiled shyly and hooked his fingers in Ragnar’s jean pocket, pulling him close.

 

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered to Ragnar.

 

He walked back into his study, where a great ornate wooden chest sat in the corner, locked tight.

 

“Over the past few centuries, I've been acquiring things of note,” said Athelstan, opening the latch. “Some of them artifacts, others—” he lifted open the chest and there, strapped against the inside top of the chest, were four swords. “ _ Weapons _ .”

 

Ragnar gazed, amazed at the swords, “I thought you said swords were not used anymore in combat?”

 

“They aren't,” said Athelstan, taking two off their hooks. “But that doesn't mean you can't own one.” He threw one at Ragnar, who caught it easily with his quick reflexes. 

 

“Now, let’s see if you are still good with one of those things,” Athelstan teased, taking his own sword, with a gilded silver hilt.

 

Ragnar raised his eyebrows at the sass, taking his challenge. They stood apart from each other in the living room, swords raised and facing one another.

 

“Are you ready to lose, my love?” Ragnar teased.

 

“ _ You wish _ ,” Athelstan smirked and then they were off, striking and blocking each other's blows with expert precision. Ragnar was secretly pleased to note, however, that Athelstan was clearly better than him. That fact didn't make him angry, it made him proud.

 

Proud of the man Athelstan had become.

 

Athelstan finally caught Ragnar off guard mid-swing, punching him in the stomach and kicking his sword out of his hand. Ragnar doubled over and when he looked up, Athelstan’s sword was at his throat. He was smiling.

 

“What was that about losing, my love?” Athelstan giggled, removing his sword.

 

Ragnar grinned and charged at him, knocking him to the floor.

 

“I win,” he smiled mischievously, before leaning down and kissing him hard, on the lips.

 

“Okay,” Gyda sighed, “Let's go upstairs to my room, Mother. Leave these two to do what they do best.”

 

Lagertha laughed and followed her daughter up the stairs, leaving Ragnar and Athelstan grinning on the floor. 

 

“You really want to have sex on the floor?” Athelstan laughed.

 

“We don't have to have sex,” said Ragnar, propping his head up on his hand. “We could just...talk and  _ kiss _ . Although, I wouldn't be opposed to sex.” He waggled his brows suggestively.

 

Athelstan laughed and kissed him again, tasting his sweet lips. Ragnar ran a hand through Athelstan’s wayward curls, admiring their softness. 

 

“Actually,” Ragnar turned serious, “I want to tell you something.”

 

“What?” 

 

“Well, after what you confessed to me the other day, it got me thinking...I have some things I need to confess…” Ragnar suddenly seemed nervous.

 

Athelstan curled a hand into Ragnar’s chest, looking deep into his eyes and said, “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

 

Ragnar took a deep, steadying breath and began, “When you died, Athelstan, I was a changed man. I was wrought with sorrow and heartache. I thought I'd never be okay again, and I was right, at least while I was alive. As you know, I almost died in Paris, and I was scared, Athelstan. Scared that when I died, I'd never see you again. So, I had the Parisian priest baptize me.”

 

Athelstan gasped, his heart feeling light and warm at Ragnar’s confession.

 

“But that was not the only reason I had them baptize me. I needed the French nobles to trust me, so that when I ‘died’ they would bring my body into the walls of Paris. And they did. But I was not dead, I fooled everyone, including Lagertha. I jumped out of that coffin and killed the priest, the one who told me I'd never see you again.” He chuckled darkly.

 

“If that's your most grievous sin, then you are already forgiven,” said Athelstan, placing a hand on Ragnar’s smooth cheek.

 

“But that's not all. When I went to England the last time, before I died, I had an... _ ulterior  _ motive. I knew I was going to die but I wanted my revenge and I knew my sons would take it. I died, knowing that they would come and wreak havoc on your homeland.” Ragnar could barely look him in the eye.

 

“I know, Ragnar,” Athelstan smoothed a hand down his face. “I know all about that.”

 

Ragnar looked up, “You do?”

 

“Yes,” Athelstan moved to get up off the floor and offered a hand to Ragnar, who took it willingly. He lead him back into the study where he searched the bookshelf until he found what he was looking for.

 

_ The Sagas of Ragnar Lothbrok _

 

He handed it over to Ragnar, who read the cover carefully, taking in the words. His English comprehension skills were almost perfect and he could read the cover just fine. He gasped, looking at Athelstan, disbelieving.

 

“This,” he could barely get the words out, “this  _ book _ is about  _ me _ ?”

 

“Yes,” Athelstan nodded his head, taking Ragnar's hand and sitting down with him on the piano bench. “Go on, read the last bit.”

 

Ragnar flipped to the back of the book and read the last few pages silently, pausing once in awhile to ask Athelstan the meaning of a word or two. When he was finished, he looked back up at Athelstan, who was smiling at him patiently.

 

“So, you knew, about all of it?” Ragnar asked.

 

“Well, a version of it,” Athelstan shrugged. He placed a hand on Ragnar’s face, “And I could never hate you for it. My  _ son  _ on the other hand…”

 

Ragnar startled, “Your son? You know about your son?”

 

Athelstan smiled sadly, “Yes, I met him for the first time not too long ago.”

 

“But, that must mean…”

 

“Yes, he is a vampire,” Athelstan looked so sad about that fact, Ragnar wanted to kiss that look off his face.

 

Instead, he asked, “How?”

 

Athelstan’s face grew hard, “ _ Eli _ ...He changed him, forced him to endure this life alone.” He crushed his hand into a fist, “I hate him.”

 

“Remind me again why I can't kill him?” Ragnar asked, only half teasing.

 

Athelstan smiled a bit and shoved at him playfully. Then he said, trying to lighten the mood, “Come on, why don't I show you the wonders of the bathroom?”

 

Ragnar raised a brow, “What’s so special about the bathroom, other than the mirror that is.”

 

Athelstan smiled wide, “The shower.”

* * *

Athelstan led Ragnar upstairs, into his bedroom and further into his grey stone bathroom. He pointed to a large glass case set into one corner of the room.

 

“ _ This _ ,” he said, “is a shower. A new way of bathing. Take off your clothes and I'll show you how it works.”

 

Ragnar raised an eyebrow teasingly, but did as he said, removing his jeans and button up flannel. He preferred the more comfortable clothes of the modern age, whilst Athelstan wore his pressed suits.

 

Athelstan removed his clothes also, until they were both standing naked in the bathroom. Athelstan reached into the shower and turned a silver knob all the way to the left, scalding hot water pouring from several spouts immediately.

 

“It's better if it's hot,” explained Athelstan to Ragnar’s gobsmacked face. “We can feel it better. Now come on—” he held out a hand to Ragnar, “come and enjoy.”

 

Ragnar let him pull him inside the glass case—the  _ shower _ —and they got under the spray of the hot water. On their skin, the scalding water felt pleasantly warm and Ragnar immediately began to relax. He let the warm water run over his head, watching as Athelstan stood under his own spray.

 

“This is incredible,” Ragnar breathed, reaching out a hand and pulling Athelstan flush against his body.

 

“You like it?” Athelstan teased, wrapping his arms around Ragnar’s shoulders.

 

“I  _ love  _ it,” Ragnar said, running a hand through Athelstan’s wet curls.

 

Athelstan leaned into the touch, feeling warmth spread beneath his fingertips till it reached his cold, dark heart. Being with Ragnar was making him a better person, he could tell. He still felt the torment on his soul for his past sins, but it felt a bit lighter being around the one he loved. If Ragnar could love him, despite everything he'd done, why can't Athelstan love himself?

 

Athelstan reached over to ledge and pulled down a skinny white bottle, with the picture of a red bulldog. 

 

“ _ This _ ,” said Athelstan, squirting a little goo into the palm of his hand, “is shampoo. It's used to clean your hair. Since you don't have any right now, I'm just going to use it.”

 

Athelstan began working it into his scalp with practiced fingers, his hair bubbling with the shampoo. Ragnar’s eyes lit up.

 

“May I?” Ragnar held out his hands, reaching for Athelstan’s head.

 

“Sure,” Athelstan laughed, turning around and leaning up against Ragnar’s chest.

 

Ragnar copied what he saw Athelstan do, massaging the shampoo into his scalp. It felt  _ amazing _ , feeling Ragnar’s hands massage him and he began to bliss out.

 

Ragnar laughed, “Why are you making that sound?”

 

Athelstan jolted, “What sound?”

 

Ragnar made the sound and Athelstan was embarrassed to note that he was purring. He'd never done that before, he didn't even know that he could. 

 

“You were purring,” Ragnar teased. “Like a cat.”

 

“Shut up,” Athelstan moaned, as Ragnar resumed his massaging.

 

Ragnar leaned down and pressed a kiss to the juncture in Athelstan’s neck, “I think you’re good.”

 

Athelstan nodded, dazed, and stepped under the spray, washing the shampoo from his hair. Ragnar raked his eyes down Athelstan’s body as he was occupied, taking in his naked backside. Ragnar smirked and came up behind him, mirroring an action from long ago.

 

“What are you doing?” Athelstan asked, tilting his head towards him.

 

“I'm following you, John,” Ragnar teased, his heart warm.

 

Athelstan smiled, his own heart melting at those words from a long time ago, and Ragnar’s teasing. Oh, how he missed it.

 

Ragnar reached around Athelstan’s body, running a hand up and down his chest. Athelstan moaned and leaned into his touch, letting his hand trail further down until he reached his cock, which was already hardening. 

 

Athelstan put his hand over Ragnar’s stopping him from pulling on his cock. Athelstan could feel Ragnar’s confusion, so he explained, grinning, “Let me soap up, first.”

 

He pulled down a bar of soap, lathering himself up. Ragnar put his hand over Athelstan’s and took the bar of soap from him, lathering up his own body. This, at least, was familiar. His cock hung heavy and hard between his thighs, his body aching to touch Athelstan, but he did as he said and waited until they were both clean.  The moment Athelstan set the bar of soap down, though, Ragnar was on him, shoving him up against the shower wall and kissing the daylights out of him.

 

Athelstan let out a pleased moan and wrapped his arms and legs around him, Ragnar holding him up with ease with his new strength. They kissed hotly, hands roaming each other's bodies and Ragnar moved a hand down to Athelstan’s entrance, eager to prepare him.

 

Athelstan stopped him, saying, “As much as I love you Ragnar, no way am I going to have sex in the shower with no lube. Carry me to bed and have your way with me there.”

 

Ragnar smirked, loving Athelstan’s bossy attitude, and reached over to turn the shower off, doing what Athelstan did just in reverse. Then, with Athelstan still wrapped around him, he flashed them to the bed, depositing him gently.

 

He immediately swooped down and captured Athelstan’s lips in a kiss, their tongues tangling in wet heat. Ragnar branded his hands down Athelstan’s wet front, rubbing his thumb over his nipples, causing him to moan aloud. He ran his hands further down, until he was grasping his hard cock. Athelstan moaned into Ragnar’s mouth, trailing his own hand down until he had Ragnar’s cock in hand.

 

Ragnar grunted with pleasure as Athelstan teasingly stroked him, making him painfully hard. In response, he tugged on Athelstan's cock, until the slit was leaking with pre-cum. Ragnar swirled his thumb over the slit, collecting some of the fluid, making Athelstan cry out as their mouths continued their dance.

 

“Turn around,” Ragnar whispered when they pulled apart slightly. “I want to see that  _ glorious _ ass of yours.”

 

Athelstan smirked and did what he said, turning onto his stomach and exposing his pert ass. Ragnar groaned at the sight and ran a hand over it gently. 

 

“ _ Beautiful… _ ” he murmured.

 

Athelstan laughed, “My arse or me?”

 

“Both.”

 

Athelstan laughed, loud, and wriggled his ass a bit, giving Ragnar a show. Ragnar leaned down and pressed kisses along the cleft of his ass, spreading his cheeks with his hands, until he reached Athelstan’s puckered entrance. He placed a featherlight kiss there before licking a wet hot stripe, getting a lovely moan from Athelstan. He probed his tongue inside Athelstan, opening him up. 

 

He snuck in a finger alongside his tongue, twisting until he found Athelstan’s prostate, causing his cock to weep with pleasure. He moved his finger in and out, fucking him gently and with care.

 

He added two more fingers quickly, scissoring him open. By the time he was prepared, Athelstan was nearly sobbing from the pressure Ragnar was putting on his prostate, desperate for release.

 

“Please, Ragnar,” he gasped, writhing in the sheets.

 

“Please what?” Ragnar teased, twisting his fingers again and hitting his spot.

 

“Oh, fuck you,” Athelstan sobbed, his face half muffled by the white pillow.

 

“I'm trying to,” Ragnar smirked mischievously, removing his fingers.

 

He reached over for the bottle of lube they kept handy; it was almost halfway empty from their various romps.

 

“I love this stuff,” he shook the bottle before squirting some on his hand and slicking himself up.

 

He put the bottle down and leaned over Athelstan, moving his wet hair off the back of his neck and placing light kisses there.

 

“You ready?” He asked, positioning himself at his entrance.

 

“ _ Yes… _ ” Athelstan ground out, pushing his behind into Ragnar’s cock.

 

Ragnar braced one of his hands on Athelstan’s hip, the other tangling with Athelstan's hand, holding him close. With deliberate slowness, Ragnar pushed inside.

 

They both let out a low moan once he was fully inside, feeling complete and together. Ragnar didn't waste any time setting a rhythm, slow and gentle, taking his time. He wanted Athelstan to be begging for it, in the nicest way possible.

 

He thrust his hips with purpose, deliberately hitting Athelstan’s prostate with each thrust. Athelstan was crying out, clutching at his fingers hard enough to draw blood.

 

It felt so good! So right, to be filled by Ragnar and made his. They fucked everyday, making it a point to come together and show one another just how much they loved each other. There were other ways to do that of course, but they had been denied being intimate for so long, they couldn't help themselves.

 

“Faster,” Athelstan cried. “Please!”

 

Ragnar obliged; he was never going to say no to Athelstan, especially in the bedroom. He pistoned his hips, thrusting harder now. Athelstan pushed his body up flush against his, until Ragnar was draped over him, fitting nicely into Athelstan’s curves, as if they were made for each other.

 

Perhaps they were…

 

They moved as one, approaching their release. Ragnar’s thrusts never lost their rhythm and precision, even as he tipped over the edge, bringing Athelstan with him. They both cried out, the feeling of intense pleasure washing over the both of them like a wave crashing over the side of a boat.

 

Ragnar collapsed on top of Athelstan, truly spent. Athelstan squirmed a little, crushed beneath Ragnar, but in a good way. A nice way.

 

“Ragnar,” he laughed in the pillow, “you’re crushing me!”

 

Ragnar quickly rolled off of him and out of him, smiling when Athelstan whimpered at the loss. He laid beside him, pulling Athelstan onto his chest with a slight tug of the arm. Athelstan went willingly, laying his head on Ragnar’s beautiful chest. He traced patterns on the skin, light as a feather, while Ragnar played with his slightly long curls. 

 

“I love you,” Athelstan sighed happily.

 

“I love you too,” Ragnar kissed the top of his head.

 

They laid there content for a few moments, until Athelstan gathered the courage to ask Ragnar a question that had been on his mind since he came back.

 

“Ragnar…” he started slowly. “I want to ask you something and you are fully within your rights to refuse to answer, I'm just— _ curious _ .”

 

Ragnar laughed, a little nervously as to the nature of the question, but said, “You are always curious. What’s the question?”

 

“After you died…” Athelstan hesitated. “Where did you... _ go _ ?”

 

Ragnar relaxed, “You mean, like the afterlife?”

 

Athelstan nodded his head.

 

“Well, I didn't go to Valhalla. I had basically renounced my Gods by the time I had died and the manner in which I died, I was not welcome.”

 

Athelstan didn't like that answer, “So, where did you go?”

 

Ragnar smiled a little, remembering with clarity where he went, after all he was there for over a thousand years, “Why, our spot, by the waterfall. Where you taught me the Lord’s Prayer and later where I—where I  _ buried  _ you.”

 

Athelstan felt tears form in his eyes, “You did?”

 

“Yes,” said Ragnar. “I was all alone, nothing but me and the forest and that waterfall. I must have sat there for centuries, watching the water rush. Time had no meaning there, it seems as if it occurred forever and at the same time, only a second. I was content, happy even, but…” he trailed off.

 

“What?” Athelstan said through his tears.

 

“I felt as though something were missing.”

 

“Yes,” sobbed Athelstan. “ _ Me _ .”

 

Ragnar looked at him, worried. He caressed his face, wiping away his tears, “My love, why are crying? What do you mean?”

 

“When I died,” cried Athelstan. “I went there to our spot and I, too, felt that something was missing.”

 

Ragnar’s eyes widened. He was coming to same conclusion that Athelstan was. They were supposed to share their afterlife, together. If Eli had never brought Athelstan back, then one day, they would have seen each other again and spent eternity together in their own little Heaven.

 

“Oh, Ragnar!” Athelstan cried, throwing his arms around him, tight. “I love you so much.” He pressed his lips hard against Ragnar’s, putting everything he felt for him behind it.

 

Ragnar kissed him back, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. When they pulled away, Ragnar said, “I love you too. As long as the sun rises in the sky and even when the day comes when it doesn't, I will still love you.”

 

Athelstan sobbed and held him tight, “As will I, Ragnar Lothbrok. As will I.”

* * *

 

Later that day, after all the tears had been wiped away, and Athelstan gathered everyone in the house to enjoy a bit of TV, there was a knock at the door. Athelstan exchanged a look with Gyda, who didn't look surprised at all.

 

“Do you know who it is?” He asked her as he walked to the door. Ragnar and Lagertha barely noticed the disturbance, so entranced by the TV.

 

Gyda smirked but said nothing. Athelstan unlocked the door and opened it, just to be greeted by the sight of his son, Alfred.

 

He was dressed in skinny jeans and a grey hoodie with a leather jacket over it. The hood was pulled over his head with a red knit beanie over his brown hair. He looked very reluctant to be there.

 

“Father…” he said hesitantly, as if waiting for him to grab his throat again.

 

Athelstan smiled warmly, “Alfred! What–what are you doing here?”

 

Behind him, at the word ‘Alfred’, Ragnar shot up from the couch, coming to walk slowly behind Athelstan.

 

“Gyda said you wanted to see me,” Alfred said, not sounding surprised that Gyda had lied to get him there. Then he looked up and saw Ragnar, and his face changed. His eyes bled red and black and his fangs were bared. He flashed forward, past Athelstan and grabbed Ragnar by the throat, shoving him up against the wall.

 

“ _ You _ !” He growled, his face bared in great anger.

 

Ragnar chuckled nervously, “Hello, Alfred…”

 

“Alfred!” Athelstan yelled. “Let him go!”

 

“Do you have any idea what chaos this man wrought upon our homeland?!” Alfred yelled, not letting him go. “The people,  _ innocents _ , who were  _ slaughtered _ ?! He's the whole reason Ecbert killed himself, for he was afraid of the coming storm of his sons!”

 

“Alfred,” Athelstan tried to be placating, “I know what you went through, I went through a similar situation myself a long time ago.”

 

Alfred stilled and slowly let go of Ragnar to turn to him. He looked so vulnerable, staring at his Father. Athelstan’s heart clenched. This boy needed a Father, Athelstan realized. Had needed one for a long time. 

 

And Athelstan was going to be that for him.

 

“You did?” Alfred asked, looking lost.

 

“Yes,” Athelstan said, holding out an arm to put around Alfred’s arm, steering him to the couch. “When Ragnar first stole me away from England. He plied me with alcohol and got me to spill some big secrets about England.” Alfred glared at Ragnar, who smiled nervously.

 

“I felt hurt and betrayed that he would go back to England and raid it, putting my countrymen at risk of death.”

 

“How did you forgive him?” Alfred asked. “Both of them.” He gestured to Lagertha, who seemed shocked to see such a resemblance between the two.

 

“Well,” Athelstan sighed. “It took time and several setbacks, but I soon came to understand that it was just—who they were, and I couldn't fault them for that.”

 

“I can…” Alfred growled and Athelstan ran a hand soothingly down his back.

 

“Alfred,” he said. “I want you to be in my life.”

 

Alfred looked at him, shocked, “You do?”

 

“Yes…” he gestured to Gyda, who got the message and herded her parents out of the room and upstairs.

 

Once they were alone, Athelstan continued, “I'm sorry I choked you the first time we met.”

 

Alfred shrugged, smiling a little, “It's okay. Gyda said I have a very chokable face.”

 

Athelstan laughed and knocked at his head, “I'm pretty sure that's a rib at both of us.”

 

“It is!” They heard Gyda yell and they both laughed.

 

“Alfred, I want you to be in my life, but you must understand, Ragnar is in my life too. I love him. I waited over a thousand years to get him back—”

 

“And you didn't even know I existed,” said Alfred ruefully.

 

“No, I didn't,” said Athelstan. “But that doesn't mean I don't love you any less.”

 

Alfred was shell-shocked, “You... _ love  _ me?”

 

Athelstan smiled warmly, “Of course I do. You are my  _ son _ , Alfred. I want to be your Father, but I also want to be with Ragnar. I want—no I  _ need _ you to be okay with that. I hope that one day, like I once did, you’ll learn to forgive Ragnar for what he did and maybe—just  _ maybe _ —even learn to like him.”

 

Alfred twisted his face, “I don't know…”

 

“Please,” Athelstan took one of Alfred’s hands in his, “I know I haven't earned this right, but I'm asking you as your Father,  _ please _ .”

 

Alfred looked at their joined hands, sighed, and then said, “Okay, Father. I'll give him a try, but if he does anything  _ uncouth _ , do I have your permission to set him straight?”

 

Athelstan laughed and hugged his son close to him, “If he does anything, we’ll set Lagertha on him. That woman is force to be reckoned with.”

 

Alfred laughed a little and said, “Okay.”

 

“Take off your hoodie and hat. Stay a while,” Athelstan said. “You guys can come down now!” He shouted.

 

Alfred inclined his head, “Alright.” He removed his hoodie and the beanie, standing up to put the beanie in his back pocket, then he fumbled around his leather jacket until he brought out a pack of smokes.

 

“You mind?” He asked Athelstan, already pulling one out.

 

“No,” Athelstan shook his head as Gyda, Lagertha, and Ragnar descended the stairs. Ragnar came and sat down next to Athelstan, watching Alfred warily as he lit up with a box of matches.

 

Alfred saw the look his Father was giving him and smirked.

 

“What? It's not like they’ll kill me,” he murmured with the cigarette in his lips.

 

“No, I suppose not.”

 

“What is it?” Ragnar whispered to Athelstan.

 

“It's a cigarette, old man,” Alfred smirked. He took it out of his lips and blew the smoke towards them before handing it out, “Here, try it.”

 

Ragnar looked at Athelstan, who didn't indicate one way or the other whether or not Ragnar should take it. 

 

Gyda laughed at his wary look and took the smoke from Alfred, who smirked at her, not surprised.

 

Athelstan was.

 

“What?” Gyda laughed. “We both lived in the Golden Age of cigarettes, don't tell me you never smoked?”

 

“I did...once or twice,” Athelstan was remembering with clarity exactly  _ what  _ he smoked and it wasn't cigarettes.

 

“Oh yeah?” Alfred breathed, surprised. “What brand?”

 

“It...wasn't cigarettes,” Athelstan admitted sheepishly.

 

Gyda guffawed, almost choking as she exhaled the smoke, “No way!”

 

“Dad!” Alfred yelled, mock horrified. “A good Christian boy like you?”

 

“I'm not a ‘good Christian boy’ anymore,” Athelstan replied ruefully.

 

“Neither am I,” Alfred smirked, taking back the cigarette from Gyda.

 

“What is it?” Ragnar asked, confused as to the reaction Athelstan’s admittance caused.

 

“He smoked cannabis, Dad,” said Gyda, still laughing.

 

Ragnar’s eyes lit up, appraising Athelstan, “You really are no longer my little priest, are you?”

 

Athelstan rolled his eyes and cuffed Ragnar on the head, which earned a laugh. Alfred watched them interact with each other with growing feeling of fondness in the pit of his belly like a flower blooming. 

 

Trying to distract himself, he looked up at the TV and said, “So, what’re we watching?”

 

“I'm  _ trying _ to introduce my parents to the concept of Halloween, so we are watching Nightmare on Elm Street,” Gyda explained.

 

“The remake or the original?” Alfred asked.

 

“The original,  _ duh _ .”

 

“So explain Halloween again to me, Gyda,” Ragnar said as he watched Freddy Kreuger attempt to kill someone in their dreams. 

 

“It's on October 31st, where people, mostly kids but adults do it too, dress up in costume and go door to door asking for free candy.”

 

“They just give it to them, this... _ candy _ ?” Lagertha asked.

 

“Oh, yeah,” said Gyda. “It's really fun to dress up and go to parties. It's the one night of the year where you can be anything you want to be.”

 

“And what do you go as, Gyda?”

 

“...a normal, living, breathing  _ human _ .”

 

The silence is deafening.


	3. THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of smut in this chapter, enjoy!

“What is that on his head?”

 

“Those are headphones, Ragnar.”

 

“And what are they used for?” Ragnar was full of curiosity, staring at Alfred in wonder as he was curled up in an armchair with large, white headphones on while scribbling furiously on a white sketch pad.

 

“Mostly for listening to music,” Athelstan mused.

 

“Music?” Ragnar looked at him. “And what is music like in the...21st Century?”

 

“Mostly drivel, to be honest,” Athelstan laughed. “But there are a few diamonds in the rough.”

 

“ _ Show me. _ ”

 

Athelstan smirked and turned on the TV, switching remotes to turn on the Amazon Fire Stick. 

 

He spoke into the remote, “Play The Beatles ‘Hey Jude’.”

 

Immediately, the room was filled with the opening piano and lyrics of Paul McCartney. Ragnar listened in wonder, never having heard music like that before. He quite liked it.

 

“Is this new?” He asked.

 

“No,” said Athelstan. “It came out in 1968. The band who performs this song, are considered a pinnacle of rock n roll.”

 

“Rock n roll?” Ragnar questioned.

 

“A type of music,” Athelstan explained. “A genre, if you will.”

 

“Are there other types?” Ragnar asked.

 

“Oh, yes. Hundreds.”

 

“I'd like to listen to them all,” Ragnar said.

 

Athelstan laughed, “That can be arranged, one day at a time. For now,” he stood up and made to go into his study, “I must do some writing.”

 

“Ah, yes,” said Ragnar. “In one of your many journals. You must let me look at them sometime.”

 

Athelstan smiled, a little sad, “One day, perhaps. For now, enjoy your music. I'll be out in a little bit.”

 

Before he was out of arm’s reach, Ragnar grabbed his hand and placed a kiss upon it, saying, “Come back soon. I love you.”

 

Athelstan smile was happier now, “I love you too.”

 

They reluctantly parted hands and Ragnar watched him as he went, filled with sorrow for his torment. He knew Athelstan well, and he knew the ghosts of his long past haunted him everyday. Athelstan had told him that he had done some despicable things in his many lifetimes, but Ragnar didn't care. He'd done the same.

 

And what did it matter now, now that they were together again. Ragnar made it his new life’s mission to remind Athelstan everyday just how much he meant to him and how good he truly was, no matter the inner demon that screamed for bloodshed and violence. He hoped that one day, Athelstan would believe his words to be true.

 

He turned back to the TV, lost in thought, that he didn't even notice Alfred staring at him intently. His music must have been off, for he heard what he said to his Father. That familiar blossom of fondness curled in his belly again and he fought hard to ignore it. He continued to scribble angrily on his sketch pad, barely even seeing what he was drawing until he was finished. 

 

Breaking away from his staring at Ragnar, he looked down at his drawing and was shocked at what he saw there. It was a demon of some sort, with flame red hair and large horns growing out of her head. She was naked, adorned with precious jewels. Her eyes were a mix of red and black, like theirs. 

 

This drawing surprised Alfred, for he thought he was doing a drawing for Gyda, a picture of Tobias in his cowboy days. He had the steel photoprint beside him, as proof as to what he was doing, but the drawing was not there, only the she-demon.

 

Disturbed, Alfred slammed his sketch pad shut and shoved it in his black leather satchel, along with his various pens and inks. 

 

Ragnar noticed him moving and asked, “You finished your drawing?”

 

Alfred removed his headphones, “What?” He pretended he was still listening to music.

 

“Did you finish your drawing?” Ragnar repeated.

 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah I did,” Alfred wrapped up his headphone cord around the the headphones and stuck them in the satchel as well.

 

“Can I see?”

 

“No!” Alfred said quickly. At Ragnar’s questioning look, he amended, “No, it's a present for Gyda. You can see it after I give it to her.”

 

Ragnar shrugged, saying, “You like music, right?”

 

“Love it,” Alfred smirked, grateful for the distraction.

 

“Help me pick something out to listen to?” Ragnar asked, holding out the Fire Stick remote.

 

Alfred looked at it warily, before taking it. He thought for a moment, then asked, “You like rock n roll?”

 

Ragnar nodded, “I liked The Beatles.”

 

“Okay, how about this: play The Rolling Stones ‘Paint It Black’,” he said into the remote’s microphone.  

 

The beginning of the guitar strum filled the room, and Ragnar listened, enraptured with this music.

 

“Is this old too? Or is it new?” He asked Alfred.

 

“It's old,” said Alfred. “Around the same time as The Beatles.”

 

“I imagine the 1960s were a good time for music, yes?” Ragnar asked, nodding his head along to the song.

 

“Oh, yeah,” said Alfred. “You should have seen Woodstock.”

 

“Woodstock?”

 

“A music festival. The most infamous one happened in 1969, the summer of love. That's where I met Gyda for the first time, actually.”

 

“Oh?” Ragnar’s interest was peaked. “What did you do at that music festival?”

 

“What  _ didn't  _ we do, is the question more like,” laughed Alfred. “We drank until we were seeing stars, smoked things that most humans would have died from, ate mushrooms and danced the days away.”

 

“Sounds intense.”

 

“It was,” said Alfred. “In the most  _ amazing  _ way!” He sighed, wistful, “I want to go to one again.”

 

“Are there music festivals now?”

 

“Oh, yeah,  _ loads _ .”

 

“Then why don't you go to one?”

 

“I don't know...I've been thinking about it. I want to bring Gyda and her man Tobias along with me, they know how to party.”

 

“I want to go.”

 

“Oh, yeah? Sure you could keep up, old man?” Alfred teased, running a hand through his dark locks.

 

Ragnar grinned, “I know how to party too, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know all about you Vikings and your party ways,” laughed Alfred, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket.

 

He lit the cigarette with his box of matches and took a long drag. Ragnar watched him smoke curiously, wondering why he picked up such habits. Although, like he said, it wasn't like they could kill him. Ragnar supposed everyone had their vices. 

 

“Hello! Hello!” Gyda called, stepping through the front door, her arms laden with shopping bags, Lagertha behind her, carrying her own, smaller bags. Gyda paused when she saw Ragnar and Alfred, making pleasant conversation, “Well, what do we have here? Alfred, are you actually making good conversation with Father?”

 

Alfred rolled his eyes, “I'm not always a prat, you know. Besides, this poor soul knows  _ nothing _ about music. I'm trying to educate him.”

 

Gyda giggled, then paused, “Where’s Athelstan? Surely he'd have some musical input.”

 

“I'm right here,” Athelstan waltzed back into the living room from his study. “I was writing.”

 

“Ah,” Gyda nodded, understanding. “So, what do you guys want to do?” Then she lit up, her blue eyes sparkling, “Oh! We should watch a movie!”

 

Alfred groaned, “I know your movies and they’re all  _ girly _ .”

 

“No,” Gyda was indignant. “It won't be girly. It'll be funny!”

 

“What movie?” Athelstan asked, sitting down next to Ragnar on the couch.

 

“Home Alone,” said Gyda, lazing herself upon the couch and grabbing the Amazon Fire Stick. 

 

Athelstan huffed a laugh, “That’s right. It's almost Christmas.”

 

“Christmas?” Ragnar asked. “What's that?”

 

“It's like Yule,” said Gyda. “Only they use it to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ...or at least some of them do.”

 

Ragnar nodded, sort of understanding.

 

“Do people still celebrate Yule?” Lagertha asked. “And pray to the Gods?”

 

Gyda and Athelstan shared a look, that does not go unnoticed by Lagertha and Ragnar. Alfred lowly whistled and took himself and his cigarette out into the garden, avoidant of this oncoming conversation.

 

“What?” Lagertha demanded. “What was that look you two shared?”

 

“Moðir, Faðir,” Gyda started gently, “You have to understand, over a  _ thousand years  _ has passed since you died, things have... _ changed _ …”

 

Athelstan sucked in a unneeded breath, not saying a word.

 

“You mean, no one prays to Odin anymore?” Lagertha asked, disbelief coloring her voice. She had assumed her religion would live forever, or at least until Ragnarok.

 

“ _ Some  _ people do,” Gyda said, feeling incredibly uncomfortable relaying her parents this devastating news. “But…”

 

“But?” Lagertha prompted. “But what?”

 

“ _ But _ ,” stepped in Athelstan, gently, “most of those people are considered outsiders, for lack of a better term—”

 

“Freaks!” yelled Alfred from the garden.

 

Athelstan twisted his head, making a face, “Yes,  _ thank you  _ Alfred.”

 

“So, you’re saying that  _ my Gods _ , are being  _ mocked  _ now?!” Lagertha’s voice was going into dangerous territory, steely like the edge of blade.

 

“They’re not mocked,” Gyda tried to amend quickly. “People still tell their stories, there are movies and TV shows about them--”

 

“But no one prays to them,” Lagertha finished. “No one sacrifices to them for good fortune and health.”

 

Gyda twisted her face and looked down at her hands, wringing in her pale pink skirt.

 

“No,” she said softly, sadly.

 

Lagertha sighed, angry, her long blonde hair swishing about her like horrendous tidal wave and she stormed past them, up the stairs and into the room she and Gyda shared. 

 

“Mother!” Gyda called, going after her, movie forgotten.

 

“I guess we aren't going to watch that movie, now, are we?” Ragnar tentatively joked.

 

Athelstan ran a hand down Ragnar’s arm, soothing, “I’m so sorry, my love.”

 

“About the Gods?” Ragnar asked. 

 

Athelstan nodded his head.

 

Ragnar waved a hand, “Don't worry about it. As Gyda said, things change. And besides, in the end, I didn't believe in the Gods, I believed in something else.” At Athelstan’s questioning look, Ragnar answered, running his finger down the bridge of Athelstan’s nose, “ _ You _ .”

 

Athelstan’s breath hitched, “ _ Really _ ?”

 

“Yes,” Ragnar breathed, he brought both of his hands on the side of Athelstan’s face and pulled him into a passionate kiss. 

 

Their tongues tangled wetly, Ragnar leaned forward until Athelstan’s head was hitting the armrest on the couch. Ragnar pressed his body into Athelstan’s, grinding his hips against Athelstan’s. Athelstan moaned in his mouth, wrapping his arms around Ragnar’s middle.

 

When they pulled apart, Ragnar whispered, “I love you.”

 

Athelstan smiled wide, “I love you, too Ragnar Lothbrok.”

 

“Do you want to have sex on this couch?” Ragnar waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 

“Ugh! At least wait till I'm gone!” Alfred exclaimed, stomping back into the living room and grabbing his satchel. 

 

He made his way to the front door and Athelstan yelled after him, “Bye, Alfred. Hunting tomorrow with us, yeah?”

 

Alfred spared him a look, “As long as I get to pick the place.”

 

Athelstan laughed, still trapped beneath Ragnar, “Sure, son. See you tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Alfred breezed out of the door, slamming it and locking it behind him.

 

Once he was gone, Ragnar leered over him, “Now, where were we?” He leaned down and kissed Athelstan again, running his hands down his white button-down shirt.

 

Athelstan raised Ragnar’s white t-shirt up under his arms, brushing his thumbs against his nipples, making Ragnar hiss into his mouth with pleasure. Ragnar captured Athelstan's lower lip with his teeth, before sliding his tongue back into his mouth, exploring. 

 

Ragnar fumbled with Athelstan’s buttons until he got fed up and just ripped the shirt open, buttons scattering everywhere.

 

“Hey!” Athelstan yelled, hitting him in the chest.

 

“You have fifty others,” teased Ragnar, easing the shirt off of him. “You can sacrifice this one to the greater good.”

 

Athelstan rolled his eyes and ripped open Ragnar’s shirt in response with a slight flick of his wrist. Ragnar was more impressed with Athelstan’s subtle display of strength than he was mad about him ripping open his own shirt. Seeing Athelstan so obviously powerful turned Ragnar on immeasurably and he felt his hardness press against his jeans almost painful.

 

Ragnar trailed hot fire down Athelstan’s front until he reached his pants and made quick work of the belt, throwing it somewhere across the room. He kept his lips on Athelstan as he unzipped him and stuck a hand beneath his boxer briefs, grasping him firmly. Athelstan gasped into his mouth and rutted his hips against his hand. 

 

Ragnar grinned into his mouth and removed his hand, shoving down Athelstan’s pants and boxer briefs in one smooth motion. He sat up and unbuttoned his own jeans, before reaching into his back pocket and bringing out a small packet of lube.

 

“Handy,” he teased, shaking the packet.

 

Athelstan rolled his eyes again and kicked off his pants and boxer briefs, toeing off his shoes, until he was completely naked beneath Ragnar. Ragnar moved back on the couch so Athelstan could bend his knees, giving him access to his entrance. He ripped open the packet of lube with his teeth and squeezed some on his fingers before snaking his index finger around Athelstan’s puckered hole. 

 

“You want this?” Ragnar asked, circling his finger around and around, making Athelstan hiss in pleasure.

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Athelstan ground out, pushing his hips into Ragnar’s hand until his finger slipped inside, met with no resistance.

 

Ragnar twisted his finger until he hit Athelstan’s prostate, causing him to cry out and lift his hips. Ragnar quickly added a second finger, fucking him with gentle care. Athelstan was whimpering underneath Ragnar’s fingers, overcome with the intense stimulation that he was giving him. Ragnar added the last finger, stretching him deliciously. Soon, he deemed him ready enough and removed his fingers. He stood up and pulled off his jeans and boxers, exposing his hard and leaking cock. 

 

He slicked himself up with the remaining lube and made to kneel on the couch but Athelstan stopped him. Athelstan got up and pushed Ragnar down on the couch, with Athelstan straddling him. Ragnar raised an eyebrow, excited at the implications. 

 

“You going to ride me?” He asked, placing his hands on Athelstan hips and guiding him to his cock.

 

“Like a boar,” Athelstan teased, waggling his eyebrows.

 

Ragnar laughed, which quickly broke off into a choke when Athelstan positioned himself over his cock and slowly lowered himself down. He took his time, impaling himself gently. When he was finally seated, he took a moment to gather himself. Ragnar hissed in a breath, watching him through lidded eyes. Athelstan steadied his hands on Ragnar’s chest and slowly raised himself up, enjoying the stretch and burn. 

 

He fucked himself slowly for a few moments until he was ready to go faster, building up a rhythm. Soon, he was bouncing on Ragnar’s cock like his life depended on it, Ragnar meeting him in the middle with a thrust of his hips, hitting his prostate each time. Athelstan moaned and Ragnar grunted, gripping his hips tight enough to leave bruises, if they were human. 

 

Athelstan bucked on his cock, feeling heat spread across the pit of his stomach. He reached down and started jacking off his own cock, but Ragnar stopped him, wrapping his large hand around him instead. Athelstan cried out from the stimulation of Ragnar teasing his slit and hitting his prostate, about to tumble over the precipice.

 

“I'm gonna come,” he cried.

 

“Me too,” Ragnar grunted, hitting his thrusts harder and faster, pounding into him relentlessly.

 

A few more well-placed thrusts and Athelstan was coming, shooting his load all over Ragnar’s sculpted abs. Within seconds, Ragnar was spilling deep inside him with a loud groan, pulling him down and rutting his hips against him as he milked his cock.

 

“ _ Ugh _ ,” Ragnar groaned, holding him close. His cock slipped out of him once he was soft, both of them moaning at the loss.

 

Athelstan could feel Ragnar’s seed dripping out of him and felt content. He liked the feeling of being made whole by the one he loved.

 

“I love you,” he sighed happily into Ragnar’s shoulder.

 

Ragnar buried his head into Athelstan’s curls, breathing in his scent deep and said, “I love you too.”

 

“And you’re not upset, about…?” Athelstan trailed off.

 

“No,” said Ragnar simply. “Not really.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah, I'm sure,” Ragnar laughed, kissing his forehead. “Now let’s clean up before your come gets all sticky.”

 

Athelstan huffed a laugh and sat up, saying, “Oh, please, you love it!”

 

Ragnar grinned and winked at him mischievously, not saying a word.

* * *

Gyda seemed to have calmed Lagertha down enough the next day, although she still looked a little put out as they got ready to go to the place Alfred picked out for them to hunt.

 

“A club?” Ragnar asked as Athelstan helped him pick out his clothes. “What's that?”

 

“It's a place where people gather to drink and dance,” Athelstan explained, holding up a dark blue button up and a red button up. “Which one?”

 

Ragnar deliberated a moment before pointing at the blue one, Athelstan nodded and tossed it to him, Ragnar catching it with ease. Ragnar pulled off his t-shirt and shrugged on the shirt, Athelstan helping him with the buttons.

 

“So, we're going to dance, then?” Ragnar waggled his eyebrows.

 

“Do you even know how to dance?” Athelstan teased, picking out a black button-up.

 

“Do you?” Ragnar shot back, his eyes full of mischief.

 

Athelstan acted offended, throwing a hand over his heart, “I know more about dancing than you do. I've had over a thousand years of experience.”

 

“You better show me then, tonight,” Ragnar ribbed, attacking his sides with his hands, causing Athelstan to jump and laugh.

 

“Oh, Athelstan’s a dancing machine,” Gyda laughed, opening the door. “You better save me a dance, Athelstan.”

 

Athelstan laughed, “You know I will, Gyda.”

 

Ragnar looked between the two of them, watching their interaction closely. He didn't say anything, but his mind was swimming. He saw the way Gyda looked at Athelstan sometimes, it was the same look he gave him.

 

He then saw what Gyda was wearing and did a double take.

 

“What the hell are you wearing?” He blurted out.

 

She was dressed in a red lace top that plunged at the neckline, accentuating her breasts with a deep black leather skirt that ended just below her butt. Her long legs were bare with strappy black heels and her makeup was perfect. Her golden blonde hair cascaded down her back in neat curls.

 

“A clubbing outfit, Daddy,” Gyda said innocently, gesturing to herself.

 

“Do they all show that much skin?” Ragnar asked, a pit of dread in stomach at the thought of the men that would leer after his daughter tonight. He knew she could take care of herself, but he still didn't like it.

 

“Yes,” answered Gyda and Athelstan at the same time; Athelstan sounding resigned.

 

Ragnar sighed, “If I told you to go change, would you?”

 

“Nope!” said Gyda, popping the ‘p’ before flouncing away down the stairs to join Alfred and her Mother.

 

Ragnar turned to Athelstan, a pretty pout on his on face. Athelstan laughed at the sight of it and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

 

“It'll be okay,” Athelstan reassured. “Gyda can take care of herself.”

 

“I don't doubt it,” Ragnar sighed. “But I still don't want to see it.”

 

Athelstan laughed again and tugged on his hand, saying, “Come on. It's time.”

 

They interlaced their fingers and walked together downstairs, meeting up with Gyda, Alfred, and Lagertha.

 

“Oh, not you too!” Ragnar groaned at the sight of Lagertha. 

 

She was wearing a black tank top, cut low over her breasts and sleek grey skirt, with an odd a-line hem. She looked amazing, although the sight of her like this did nothing for Ragnar, he didn't even look at other women’s bodies now that he had Athelstan.

 

“What? You don't like it?” Lagertha teased, twirling around to show it off.

 

“I think she looks hot,” said Gyda, smirking. “She won't have any trouble picking up some John at the club.”

 

Ragnar groaned again, burying his head in his hands. Athelstan laughed and patted him on the shoulder, trying to be comforting. He ran a hand over his head, feeling the short strands that he was trying to grow out.

 

“Well, if the old man is done having a stroke over here, let's go,” said Alfred, putting his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket.

 

Athelstan rolled his eyes at his son and pulled on Ragnar’s hand, causing him to look up. They all walked together outside the townhouse, Athelstan pausing to lock the door behind him. Ragnar interlocked their fingers again as they made their way down the street.

 

They made their way to the club, which was already jumping with energy. There was a long line out front but Alfred went up to the bouncer and whispered in his ear. Immediately, the bouncer waved them through, Ragnar eyeing him curiously.

 

“Is he like their guard?” He whispered to Athelstan as they walked through the door.

 

“Yeah, in a way,” said Athelstan as they entered the main room of the club, where patrons were dancing and drinking with abandon.

 

Ragnar watched the people with interest, “This is  _ wild _ !”

 

Athelstan laughed, gripping his hand, “Yeah, yeah it is.”

 

“You guys want drinks?” Alfred yelled over the music, although they could hear him perfectly.

 

“Yes!” Gyda yelled. 

 

“What do you want? I'm getting a beer.”

 

“A Cosmopolitan,” said Gyda. She turned to her Mother, “You want what I want?” Lagertha nodded her head, so Gyda turned back to Alfred and said, “Two Cosmopolitans.”

 

Alfred nodded, “Alright. Dad? Ragnar?”

 

Ragnar looked at Athelstan, trusting him to order something good, so Athelstan said, “Two bourbons, neat.”

 

Alfred gave him a thumbs up and disappeared through the throngs of dancing people towards the other side of the club, where the bar was.

 

“What’s a bourbon?” Ragnar asked, wrapping his arms around Athelstan’s waist and pulling him flush against his chest. 

 

Athelstan could feel Ragnar’s rock hard muscles underneath his shirt and almost went weak in the knees. It was late November now, Ragnar and Lagertha had been with them for almost two months now, but every second with Ragnar felt like the first: hot and heavy, full of passion and love.

 

“It's an American style drink, having been made since the 18th Century,” Athelstan explained, placing his hands over Ragnar’s. 

 

“America,” Ragnar dragged out the word, his voice full of curiosity. “That's where Gyda’s, what's the word?  _ boyfriend _ ? lives, right?”

 

“Yeah, Tobias,” said Athelstan.

 

“What's he like?”

 

Athelstan hesitated, “I think Gyda would be better equipped to answer that question…”

 

“Why?”

 

“I've, uh, actually never met him before,” Athelstan admitted.

 

“Oh?” Ragnar sounded surprised. “But you and Gyda are so close.”

 

“There...was a period of time when Gyda and I didn't really speak to one another,” Athelstan was dreading this conversation.

 

“Really? Why?”

 

Athelstan turned in his arms and placed his hands on Ragnar’s chest and said, “I promise I will tell you about it, but...not right now, okay?” He smiled, more like grimaced at him.

 

Ragnar took in his grimace and nodded reassuringly. He didn't want to dredge up bad memories of the past, not when they were trying to have a good time out in this club.

 

Athelstan sighed, relieved, and changed the subject, “How are doing? Hunger wise?”

 

Ragnar thought about it for a moment, “Not bad. Having that blood bag before we left helped, but I'm probably going to need to feed soon.”

 

“I already found my meal,” Alfred announced, juggling their drinks in his hands with impressive balance. He handed Lagertha and Gyda their drinks before giving Athelstan and Ragnar their glasses of bourbon. 

 

Ragnar gave it a sniff before shrugging and knocking it back in one gulp. Athelstan watched, amused, as his dead taste buds picked up a hint of the bourbon’s strong taste. He made a face and Athelstan laughed, taking his own sip of his drink, smaller than Ragnar’s.

 

“Oh, yeah?” Gyda asked, moving her body slightly to the music. “Who?”

 

Alfred pointed across the room, to a petite blonde thing, giggling with her friends and staring at Alfred. She blushed when she noticed them staring at her, and Athelstan could feel Ragnar stiffen beside him, smelling the blood rush from all the way over there.

 

Alfred noticed too and said, “Watch it, old man. That one’s mine.” He took a large gulp of his beer and swaggered off towards the girl, leaving them.

 

Athelstan took Ragnar’s arm and led him to the dance floor, downing his bourbon and leaving the glass on the table. 

 

“What are we doing?” Ragnar yelled as Athelstan led him away.

 

“I promised you I'd show you how I dance!” Athelstan called over his shoulder to Ragnar.

 

They joined the throngs of sweaty people and immediately Athelstan started rocking his body to the beat, pressing up against Ragnar. Ragnar raised his eyebrows, amused and turned on by Athelstan’s dance moves, but followed his lead, rocking his own hips against Athelstan.

 

Ragnar quickly got the hang of the basic dance moves, even jumping and grooving a bit when the other people around them did the same.

 

“Are you having fun?” Athelstan asked him.

 

“Yes!” Ragnar yelled, feeding off of the energy from the crowd. “I am a little hungry, though!”

 

“I'll get you something to eat, I promise!” Athelstan yelled back as they continued to bounce.

 

“You guys are proper adorbz!” yelled a very drunk girl from their right, dancing with what Athelstan perceived was her boyfriend.

 

Athelstan laughed, “Thanks, love.”

 

“Adorbz?” Ragnar questioned Athelstan.

 

“Adorable,” Athelstan elaborated. “Cute.”

 

“I think you’re cute,” Ragnar teased, pinching his cheek.

 

“Shut up!” Athelstan laughed, drunk and dizzy on love.

 

“ _ Gross _ !” They heard someone slur to their friend. “Showing such open affection. Disgusting.”

 

Ragnar stilled and muttered, “I think I just found my meal.”

 

Athelstan smirked and stole a glance behind him at the person who uttered those words. It was a very drunk guy, almost stumbling over himself in the crowd.

 

“Just a warning, Ragnar,” Athelstan said, placing a hand on his chest. “When you feed from someone so overtly intoxicated like that man, it—it gets you on  _ another level _ .”

 

Ragnar tilted his head, curious.

 

“What do you mean?” He asked.

 

“You remember the mushrooms?” Athelstan asked.

 

Ragnar smirked a little at the memory of little Athelstan during their time at Uppsala, “Yeah, I remember the mushrooms.”

 

“It's like that.”

 

Ragnar’s eyes positively twinkled in the strobe light and he grinned, big and bright, “Then come feed with me.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Athelstan teased.

 

“Yeah, I want to get like that with you,” Ragnar said.

 

“Uh, excuse me!” Gyda wedged herself between them. “Before you get all high and fuck each other in the bathroom—don't give me that look Athelstan, we both know it's going to happen—I believe  _ you _ promised me a dance.” She looked at Athelstan pointedly.

 

Athelstan laughed and looked at Ragnar, “Do you mind?” Ragnar shook his head no, so he said, “Make sure our meal doesn't stumble away, okay?” Then he took Gyda’s hand and they shimmied down the dance floor, easily being the best dancers in the room.

 

Ragnar stood back and watched them, while keeping an eye on their meal. That guy seemed to be drowning his liver in alcohol. Ragnar was excited at the implications of drinking from one so drunk such as he. He felt Lagertha come up beside him and joined him watching Gyda and Athelstan light up the dance floor, both of them looking incredibly happy in each other’s company.

 

“She loves him, you know,” Lagertha said quietly.

 

Ragnar inclined his head, “I know. He loves her too, took care of her all these years.”

 

“No,” Lagertha shook her head, smiling a little. “I mean she  _ loves  _ him.”

 

Ragnar looked at her, but he couldn't feel surprised by this admission. He saw the way Gyda looked at Athelstan after all. He watched them, seeing how happy they were to be in each other’s presence and wondered silently to himself if he'd never came back, would Athelstan have ended up with Gyda? 

 

He watched as Gyda threw her arms around Athelstan, pulling him close and swaying with him to the beat. They both looked so happy, Ragnar didn't want to interrupt but he saw their meal stumble into the bathroom alone and he knew that this was their chance.

 

“Athelstan,” he whispered. He saw Athelstan’s head perk up and look his way. “Our meal just stumbled into the bathroom— _ alone. _ ”

 

Athelstan gave him a smile and he talked silently to Gyda, who waved him off with a laugh. She called her Mother over to her to take Athelstan’s spot and then Athelstan came up to Ragnar with a winning smile on his face that Ragnar couldn't help but return. It made his insides feel alive, seeing Athelstan smile at him like that.

 

Ragnar intertwined his fingers, he couldn't get enough of holding Athelstan as close as possible as often as he could and said, “Let’s go play with our food.”

 

The twinkling sound of Athelstan laughter followed him as they made their way to the bathroom. They stepped into the black and white tile floor of bathroom, giggling and kissing each other, and spied the guy taking a very lengthy piss at one of the urinals. He gave them a searching side look, a hint of disgust on his face though he tried—and  _ failed _ —to school it neutral.

 

“Hey, sorry man,” Ragnar put on his best face, acting the part of being caught manhandling his sweetheart in the bathroom. His modern lingo had improved much over the past two months and now he sounded almost like the rest of them, except he had a distinct Norwegian accent. “Just can't keep my hands off of him, you know.”

 

Athelstan gave a false giggle and leaned into Ragnar’s side, pressing a wet kiss to the side of his face. The guy’s piss stuttered off and he fumbled to put his dick back in his pants and away from their eyes. Athelstan noted to himself that the guy’s size was nowhere near as impressive as Ragnar’s.

 

The guy said nothing, not even bothering to give them a second glance, which just pissed Ragnar off even more. The guy stumbled over to the sink and drunkenly washed his hands before trying to leave out the door. He seemed he was in such a hurry to get away from them, he didn't even dry his hands off.

 

Ragnar and Athelstan were blocking the door and the guy finally looked at them, saying rudely, “‘Scuse me.”

 

Ragnar looked at him searchingly and gave him a devious smile, the smile that Athelstan always knew meant someone was in trouble and it seemed the guy thought so too.

 

“Where you going?” Ragnar put out a hand and stopped the guy from going further.

 

“Hey!” The guy said indignantly. “I don't want any of your fairy business!”

 

“Athelstan, what does ‘fairy’ mean?” Ragnar asked lightly, his hand not straying from its tight grip on the guy’s shoulder.

 

“It's a really mean term for gay,” responded Athelstan, just as light.

 

Ragnar’s eyes turned dark, “Now,  _ that _ —that's just rude.” And with that, he shoved the guy hard backwards, his body slamming up against one of the stall doors.

 

“What the fuck, man?” The guy yelled, nursing a bruised shoulder.

 

“In fact, you’ve been pretty rude about us earlier as well, wasn't he Athelstan?” Ragnar stepped forward, advancing on the guy, Athelstan right behind him, after he subtly locked the bathroom door.

 

“Oh yes,” said Athelstan, coming beside the guy and gripping his arm so tight he could feel the bruises blossoming beneath his fingertips. “Very rude. And you know how I  _ hate  _ rude people.”

 

Ragnar tutted, “You’ve upset my love here. Now that just won't do. I think it's time you were taught a lesson.” His eyes bled into red and black and he revealed his fangs.

 

The guy tried to let out a startled scream but Athelstan slapped his hand over his mouth and locked eyes with him, saying, “ _ Don’t scream _ .”

 

The guy went limp and Ragnar barely had time to register that before he buried his fangs into his neck, Athelstan following suit, and biting his the wrist he held. 

 

Within minutes the guy was drained dry and Athelstan and Ragnar released them, their heads positively spinning with the alcohol that was running through the man’s veins.

 

“ _ Oh _ ,” said Ragnar, his eyes closed in pure bliss. “ _ Oh _ .”

 

“Yeah,” slurred Athelstan. “ _ Oh. _ ”

 

Ragnar forced his eyes open and looked at Athelstan. It was almost as if he was seeing him in a new light. The lights of the bathroom formed a glow about Athelstan’s head and it looked like a halo, fitting him nicely. 

 

He was filled with this overwhelming wave of love and lust as he looked at him and he practically growled, “ _ Get over here _ .”

 

Athelstan did as he said without hesitation, both of their eyes blown wide with lust and intoxication. Their mouths melded against one another and Ragnar wrapped his arms around Athelstan’s middle, hauling him up off the ground.

 

Athelstan mouthed in his ear, “Fuck me in the bathroom stall.”

 

Ragnar’s eyes darkened even further with lust, “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Athelstan slurred and Ragnar walked them backwards into the stall, slamming the door shut behind them.

 

He pushed Athelstan up against the metal of the stall wall, Athelstan’s legs still wrapped around him, their clothed, hardened cocks rubbing against one another’s in a frenzy.

 

“I'm going to fuck you so good, baby,” Ragnar groaned in his mouth.

 

Through his haze, Athelstan noticed the use of the word ‘baby’ and raised an eyebrow, “ _ Baby _ ?”

 

“Gyda told me it's a term of endearment,” Ragnar grunted, reaching his hand down between them and rubbing it across Athelstan’s hardness. 

 

Athelstan let out a hiss through his teeth, his body feeling hot even though he was dead. Ragnar used his hand to unbuckle Athelstan’s pants, putting his hand down under the fabric and grasping his cock firmly. Athelstan moaned, and jutted his hips into Ragnar’s hand.

 

Ragnar grinned in satisfaction, and began jacking him slowly and swirling his thumb around the head, gathering a steady stream of pre-cum. Athelstan didn't want to be the only getting pleasure, so he detached one of his hands from around Ragnar’s neck and palmed him through his pants.

 

Ragnar groaned and sped up his jacking, gaining traction. Athelstan let out a litany of tiny gasps in his mouth, feeling overcome with the pleasure he was receiving. With unsteady fingers, he undid Ragnar’s pants and shoved them down around his ass, letting his large cock spring free. Athelstan bit his lips at the sight, ready to take that length inside of him, now.

 

“ _ Mm _ ,” Athelstan moaned. “ _ Fuck me _ !”

 

“You got any lube?” Ragnar slurred, easing Athelstan down off of him so he could turn him around.

 

Athelstan reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out two packets of lube with an unsteady smirk on his face.

 

“Gyda snuck them into—into my back pocket before I left the dance floor,” he grinned, palming them into Ragnar’s hand.

 

“Thank the Gods for Gyda,” Ragnar groaned and pulled Athelstan into another melting kiss, their head tilting this way and that as they practically devoured each other.

 

Ragnar pulled them apart reluctantly and moved Athelstan to turn around, so he'd get a good view of his behind. He shoved Athelstan’s pants down around his knees, exposing his glorious ass. Ragnar gave it a slap and watched in satisfaction as it jiggled and Athelstan moaned loud in response.

 

“You like that, baby?” He grunted.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Athelstan slurred, pushing his ass into Ragnar’s hands. “Do you?”

 

“More than life,” Ragnar answered and ripped open one of the lube packets with his teeth.

 

He squirted a generous amount on his fingers before teasing his index finger around Athelstan’s tight hole. Athelstan couldn't help but smirk; the great thing about being a vampire was that he was always tight, never loose like some men get after fucking too much. And for Athelstan? That was an amazing thing, considering how much sex he and Ragnar were having since he came back.

 

Athelstan got tired of Ragnar’s teasing and pushed back onto to the finger, letting it slip inside. They both groaned low at this, the first penetration always enticing them to new highs. Ragnar pushed it all the way inside, up to the last knuckle and twisted it  _ just right _ until it hit that sweet spot inside Athelstan that had him seeing stars. His cock was weeping a steady stream of pre-cum, red and angry.

 

Ragnar entered a second finger, pushing them in and out, brushing up against his prostate, making Athelstan feel sparks explode under his skin in the most mind altering way. Ragnar spread his fingers, scissoring him open. He pushed one more finger in, fucking him earnestly. 

 

“ _ Enough _ ,” Athelstan gasped. “Fuck me already!”

 

Ragnar grinned and pressed a kiss to the back of Athelstan’s neck, before removing his fingers and ripping open the second lube packet, slicking up his hard cock. He grasped Athelstan’s hips and pulled him flush up against his body, sliding his cock teasingly against Athelstan’s crack.

 

“Stop teasing,” Athelstan moaned.

 

“You know I love to tease you,” Ragnar slurred, nipping a bite against his neck, watching in disappointment as it healed itself.

 

“I know,” Athelstan slurred. “But if you love me, you’ll fuck me.  _ Right. Now _ .”

 

Ragnar laughed, “Ouch. Appealing to my love of you, low blow Athelstan.”

 

Athelstan chuckled and rucked his ass against Ragnar’s rigid cock.

 

“I'm not sorry,” he slurred.

 

Ragnar tutted but grasped his cock, aligning himself up with Athelstan’s entrance. Athelstan reached a hand back and grasped Ragnar’s that was on his hip as he slowly breached him. They both let out a low moan as he slid inside Athelstan’s tight heat.

 

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Ragnar growled once he was buried to the hilt.

 

Athelstan laughed, which choked off into a moan as Ragnar began to move, slowly sliding himself back out before shoving back in, slamming up against his prostate. 

 

“Ugh, I love you,” Ragnar moaned as he began to thrust harder.

 

“I—I love you too,” Athelstan gasped, reeling from the pleasure Ragnar was giving him.

 

“You do?” Ragnar asked, sounding breathless. “How much?” He was slamming into him faster.

 

“ _ Uh, uh,  _ so much!” Athelstan gasped.

 

“Use your words, baby,” Ragnar growled.

 

“I–I would  _ kill _ the entire world for you,” Athelstan gasped out. “I would bring the world to its  _ knees _ just for one second with you.”

 

Ragnar thrust even faster, liking the sound of that very much. He slammed against Athelstan’s prostate with each thrust, bringing them closer and closer to the edge and Athelstan’s words were driving Ragnar crazy. He would do the same for Athelstan in a heartbeat, just to see him happy and smiling, without the haunted look in his eyes. 

 

“ _ Ugh _ , I'm going to come!” Athelstan yelled, fisting a tight hand over his cock, jacking in time with Ragnar’s thrusts.

 

“Come for me, baby,” Ragnar whispered in Athelstan’s ear, sending shivers down his spine and right to his cock.

 

He aimed a few more good thrusts up against Athelstan’s prostate, then Athelstan was coming, all over the bathroom’s tile floor. Ragnar watched as the love of his life fell apart in the most amazing way, then he was coming too, buried deep inside. 

 

Ragnar fell against Athelstan, both of them panting heavily despite the fact that neither of them needed to, and he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. 

 

He pressed hot kisses down the back of Athelstan’s neck, slurring, “That was  _ amazing _ .”

 

Athelstan chuckled lowly, “Yeah, it was. And so are you.”

 

A rattling sound came from the bathroom door and Gyda’s slurred voice yelled, “Athelstan? Dad? Are you two done fucking? We’re ready to go home!”

 

Athelstan laughed and called back, “Yeah, we’re done. We’ll be out in a second!”

 

Ragnar whimpered at the loss as he pulled out of Athelstan, both of them getting themselves decent again with drunken fingers. Athelstan helped Ragnar drag the dead body into the stall, situating him on the the toilet seat before closing the stall door and unlocking the bathroom door. Ragnar linked his hand with Athelstan’s and they walked out of the bathroom and rejoined their family.

 

“You guys are gross,” Alfred slurred as they all drunkenly made their way out of the club.

 

Gyda laughed, “You’re just jealous! You want a big, hulking Viking boy—”

 

Alfred shut her up with a glare that would frost even the warmest of hearts.

 

“Wait,” Athelstan said. “You’re  _ gay _ ?!”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all liked this chapter! Please feel free to leave comments, kudos, the like...every bit of it really makes my day, y'all have no idea:)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. FOUR

“He's coming! He's coming!”

 

“Woah, woah, slow down Gyda. Who's coming?”

 

“ _ Tobias _ !” Gyda yelled excitedly, gesturing to her phone.

 

“Oh,” Athelstan was stunned but tried not to let it show. “That's great, Gyda.”

 

Gyda smiled knowingly, “I know you’re  _ thrilled _ , Athelstan, but do try to be nice and make him forget his first impression of you.”

 

Athelstan raised a brow, “What was his first impression of me?”

 

“That you’re a pompous dick with a stick jammed so far up your arse it clouds your judgement,” Gyda smirked.

 

Alfred guffawed behind them and Ragnar smiled to himself as he poured out a blood bag into two separate crystal glasses for himself and Lagertha, who was sitting on the couch engrossed with a novel.

 

“He's not wrong!” Alfred laughed and Athelstan glared at him.

 

“Well, then,” said Athelstan, straightening his tie, “I hope I can change his mind.”

 

“I hope so too because his plane comes in tomorrow,” Gyda said, going to sit by her Mother on the couch and sending a text to Tobias. “I told him he was welcome here, that's not a problem is it?”

 

_ Yes. _

 

“No,” said Athelstan. “He's more than welcome here.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Does he treat you well, Gyda?” Ragnar asked, handing off one of the glasses to Lagertha, who took it without looking up from her book.

 

Gyda rolled her eyes, “I think it's  _ a bit  _ late for the over-protective Father spiel.”

 

“ _ Spiel _ ?” Ragnar questioned, wrapping an arm around Athelstan's waist and pulling him close, kissing his forehead.

 

Athelstan leaned into the touch, putting a hand over Ragnar’s hand, feeling his sun ring under his fingers. It was similar to Athelstan’s—gold with red filigree—and a traitorous voice in his head reminded him they looked like matching wedding rings.

 

“A gimmick,” Gyda explained. “Tobias is great, Dad.  _ Really.  _ He treats me like a queen.”

 

“Good,” said Ragnar and Lagertha at the same time. 

 

“‘Cause if he didn't…” Ragnar trailed off.

 

“You’d rip his lungs from his body, I know,” said Gyda, rolling her eyes again. “You do know that wouldn't kill him, right?”

 

“But it'd hurt,” said Ragnar, and that was enough for him.

 

“Does he need someone to pick him up from the airport?” Athelstan asked, steering them away from discussions of bodily harm. It wasn't even noon yet.

 

“No,” said Gyda, scrolling through her messages on her phone, “He's taking a cab.”

 

Athelstan nodded.

 

Ragnar leaned his head on Athelstan’s shoulder and asked, “What does he look like? Tobias, I mean.”

 

Athelstan had to stifle a laugh and a quick glance at Alfred looked like he was doing the same, albeit less successfully than his Father. Gyda looked at him, confused.

 

“What?” She demanded. “What is it?”

 

Alfred schooled his face neutral, “Nothing! Nothing at all…”

 

Gyda eyed him suspiciously but dropped it, answering her Father’s question, “Oh, he's so handsome, Daddy. He's got beautiful blonde hair and piercing blue eyes—”

 

“And an  _ interesting  _ facial structure,” Alfred cut in, smirking over top of Gyda’s head at his Father, who bit his lips hard from trying not to laugh.

 

Gyda whipped her head around, “What  _ are  _ you talking about,  _ Alfie _ ?”

 

Alfred bristled at the nickname but didn't budge, “Nothing, Gyda. I promise.” He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

 

Gyda gave him her best ice-melting glare before turning back to her Father, “You’ll love him, Daddy, I swear.”

 

Ragnar exchanged a look with Athelstan who nodded gently, then said, “I trust your judgement, Gyda.” He grasped Athelstan’s hand and made to pull him away, “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to  _ talk  _ with  _ my  _ boyfriend.”

 

Athelstan’s heart felt like it was going to explode at the words “my boyfriend” and allowed himself to be dragged up the stairs and into his room, choosing to ignore the comments Alfred and Gyda were snidely making behind their backs.

 

“Once Tobias gets here, I swear I'm gonna give them a taste of their own medicine…”

 

“Oh ho! Make sure I'm not in the house for that—on second thought, scratch that. I  _ definitely  _ want to be in the house when that goes down. Your Dad will have a hernia!”

 

Athelstan heard no more once Ragnar pushed the door shut, choosing to block out their voices in favor of something more pleasurable at the moment. But it seemed that Ragnar really wanted to talk, for he sat down on the bed and put his head in hands.

 

Athelstan frowned, “Love? What's wrong?”

 

“I am glad that Gyda found someone who loves her but…” Ragnar trailed off, looking unsure of his next words.

 

“But?” Athelstan prompted, going to sit beside him on the bed.

 

“I can't shake Lagertha’s words, from when we went to the club.”

 

“What did she say?”

 

“She said—she said that Gyda was in love with  _ you _ .”

 

Athelstan paused. He should have known Ragnar would have figured it out, sooner or later. This was  _ not  _ a conversation he wanted to have with Ragnar, especially now that they were together— _ intimately _ .

 

“And…” Athelstan tried to find the right words, “how did she know that?”

 

Ragnar looked at him, “You think us blind? We see the way she looks at you, like you yourself hung the stars in the sky one by one.”

 

Athelstan sighed. He'd noticed that too; had for awhile now, ever since Gyda confessed to him over a century ago. Before that, he knew she looked at him adoringly, but he never thought there was anything other than familial love behind those expressive blue eyes, so like her Father’s.

 

Ragnar had to ask, “Were you two ever…”

 

“What? No!” Athelstan felt a little insulted. For Ragnar to wonder if he had  _ gotten together  _ with his daughter was incredibly offensive. After all he'd done to protect her? “She's only ever been like a sister to me, Ragnar, I swear. I love her as if she were my own blood, but that's it.”

 

Ragnar sighed, “I figured that, I just had to ask.”

 

“Ragnar, you have to understand, for a millennium we were all each other had.  _ I  _ was the one who raised her, my blood now flows through her veins, so there will  _ always  _ be a connection between the two of us. I took care of her,  _ protected _ her for a thousand years. I love her, Ragnar...but not in the way I love  _ you _ .”

 

Ragnar looked up at this and bore his wonderful blue eyes into Athelstan’s, “And,  _ how  _ do you love me?”

 

Athelstan cocked his head to the side, “You know how much I love you, Ragnar.”

 

“I know,” Ragnar smiled. “I just want to hear you say it.”

 

Athelstan smiled warmly and placed his hands on the side of Ragnar’s face, “I love you, Ragnar Lothbrok. More than my life, more than anything in this world. I love you with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my being.”

 

Ragnar grinned, his smile lighting up like a mega-watt bulb. He surged forward and kissed Athelstan square on the mouth. He pushed them forward, their tongues in an electric dance, until Athelstan’s head hit the soft, pillow-top mattress. 

 

“I love you,” Ragnar said, in between kisses. “With everything in my body. My soul is tied to you, forever.”

 

“Forever,” Athelstan echoed, pulling him down for another kiss.

 

Ragnar reached down a hand toward Athelstan’s pants, rubbing against the growing bulge, when a large thud sounded against the window. They both jumped, staring at where the noise sounded and saw a dead bird slide down the window slowly.

 

“What the—” Ragnar said, but was cut off when another dead bird slammed up against the window.

 

Athelstan sat up, erection forgotten and ran to the window, watching in horror and surprise as dozens upon dozens of dead birds fell from the sky. Upon closer look, Athelstan saw that they were all ravens.

 

“Uh, guys?” Athelstan heard Gyda yell from downstairs. “Can you guys stop your fucking and get down here?”

 

Athelstan exchanged a look with Ragnar who nodded, both of them straightening themselves up before flashing downstairs. Gyda, Lagertha, and Alfred were gathered around a window, watching as the dead ravens continued to fall.

 

Lagertha seemed shaken, she was muttering in Old Norse. Athelstan caught some of it, she was saying, “This is sign. Odin is angry with us.”

 

Athelstan didn't say anything, but he didn't feel like he'd agree with her. This seemed something more... _ sinister _ .

 

As suddenly as the birds began dropping, they stopped. People in the streets cautiously looked up at the sky, fearing another wave coming. It never did. 

 

“Well, that was creepy,” Alfred said, his eyes drifting back to his sketch pad in his satchel where a drawing he did today sat. 

 

It was a drawing of a dead raven.

 

He didn't even consciously draw it. His hand began drawing of its own accord, like when he drew that picture of that she-demon. He had tried to destroy that picture, burn it, but it wouldn't burn. So it sat in his satchel, feeling as though it would burn a hole straight through.

 

Athelstan walked over to the TV, turning it on to the news, hoping to gain some clarity as to what just happened.

 

“—reports are coming in saying that an odd anomaly like what just happened here in London has happened in Oslo, Norway, Memphis, TN, New York City, and many others listed across the bottom of the screen—”

 

“So, this isn't an isolated incident,” said Gyda, coming to sit next to Athelstan on the couch.

 

“Apparently not,” said Athelstan, feeling deep concern in his gut and a sense of foreboding.

 

“What do you think it means?”

 

“I don't know,” Athelstan admitted.

 

“It can't be anything good, that's for sure,” said Gyda, wringing her hands. “We know better than anyone that odd natural anomalies like this can  _ only  _ be caused by magick—in this case,  _ really powerful _ magick.”

 

Athelstan spared a look at Ragnar, who was staring out the window at the dead ravens with a blank look on his face. He wondered what was going through his head at that moment.

 

“What are we going to do?” Alfred asked.

 

“There's not much we can do,” said Athelstan. “I could— _ Gyda and I  _ could convene with the spirits, see if they have any idea what just happened.”

 

Gyda nodded, “That's a good idea. I'm sure they'd have an answer. I hope this occurrence doesn't mess up Tobias’ plans. I'm going to text him.” She pulled out her phone and began rapid fire texting, her phone pinging within seconds with his answer.

 

Ragnar turned away from the window, “What do you mean  _ ‘convene with the spirits’ _ ?”

 

“It's a simple spell, allows you to rest in this fugue state between the worlds and speak with the spirits, who sometimes have a great knowledge of the mysteries of Earth,” explained Athelstan. 

 

Ragnar seemed concerned, “And you are  _ asleep _ when this happens?”

 

“Sort of. Your body is asleep but your mind and soul are awake and inside the spirit world.”

 

“I don't like that, Athelstan,” said Ragnar, shaking his head. “It sounds dangerous.”

 

“Nothing can hurt me there, I promise,” Athelstan smiled at him reassuringly, not missing the look Gyda side-eyed him.

 

Then he stood up and motioned for Gyda to follow, “We need to go...get supplies for our spell, right Gyda?”

 

Gyda nodded, “Right.”

 

Ragnar grabbed his coat for where it was slung over the couch, “I’ll go with you.”

 

“No!” Athelstan yelled. He amended, “No, Gyda and I need to do this by ourselves.”

 

Ragnar eyed him wearily. This was the first time since he came back that Athelstan wanted to be away from him, and it was making him uncomfortable, especially considering the circumstances. But he trusted Athelstan, trusted his judgement.

 

“Okay,” said Ragnar. “Hurry back.”

 

Athelstan wrapped his arms around Ragnar, bringing him close. 

 

“I will,” he promised, kissing him on the nose. “I love you.”

 

Ragnar smiled, “I love you too.”

 

Athelstan and Gyda bid the others goodbye and walked outside the door, stepping over the dozens of dead ravens as they got into the car. After a moment of silence, Gyda spoke.

 

“We’re not getting supplies, are we?” She asked as he started the car.

 

“You always were perceptive, weren't you?” Athelstan avoided the question, pulling out of the garage, listening to the squelch as he backed over the dead birds.

 

“When it comes to you? Yes, always. I know when you’re lying and I know when you are avoiding, so tell me: where are we going?” Gyda asked.

 

“To The Principal London,” said Athelstan, “to find Eli.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He’ll have answers as to what just happened, I'm sure of it.”

 

“Are we not going to convene with the spirits?”

 

“No.”

 

A moment of silence, then:

 

“What makes you so sure he's even still there? It's been two months, he's probably long gone,” said Gyda.

 

“He's there,” Athelstan was certain.

 

“Oh, and be sure to bring your claws out,” he added. “I've noticed you've been hiding them from your parents.”

 

“As have you,” Gyda bit back, smirking. “Why do you do that?”

 

“Why do you?”

 

“I'm afraid they won't love me if I show them who I've become,” said Gyda, looking at her lap. It had always been easy to confess her true heart to Athelstan. He understood her, better than anyone.

 

“That's not true,” said Athelstan. “They're your parents, they'll love you no matter what.”

 

Gyda shook her head. After a moment, she spoke again, “I answered your question, now you answer mine: why do you hide yourself, especially from Father?”

 

Athelstan sighed and clenched his jaw, “Because—like you, I'm afraid he won't love me, if he knows even  _ half  _ of what these hands have done.”

 

“And you don't think his hands have not done things too?” Gyda asked. “From what I gather from Mother, Father was a changed man after you died. He did things— _ strange  _ things, for the chance to see you again. He would love you no matter what form you take, because to him, you are still  _ Athelstan _ .”

 

Athelstan looked at her out the corner of his eye, and tightened his hands on the steering wheel. Maybe she was right, but Athelstan was terrified that she might not be. He couldn't take that chance—he couldn't.

 

“He saw it, a bit when we went to the club,” said Athelstan. “The monster side of me, I mean.”

 

“And did he run away?”

 

Athelstan said nothing. 

 

They arrived at the Principal London and parked the car, walking into the hotel like they owned the place. And with their looks, they might as well. Athelstan could feel himself slip into his old, familiar skin. He waltzed up to the concierge and gave her his best dazzling smile.

 

“Hello, love,” he charmed. “Me and my... _ sister _ would like to know if a certain person has checked out of this lovely establishment.”

 

The woman stared up at him, completely dazzled. She remembered herself and said, “Of course! I just need a name, please.”

 

“I believe he goes by Eli Primus these days,” Athelstan surmised. Gyda snorted a laugh behind him.

 

The woman typed away at the computer, then said, “Nope! Eli Primus is still in checked in.”

 

Athelstan gave Gyda a sly look before turning back to the woman at the counter, “Is he currently in now?”

 

“You'd have to check his room for that.”

 

“Could you give me a room key, please?”

 

“I'm sorry, we don—”

 

“ _ Give me a room key, please _ .”

 

“Of course,” the woman mindlessly typed away at her computer, authorizing a key and wrote Eli’s room number on it in sharpie. 

 

Room 666.

 

Appropriate.

 

She handed it off to Athelstan, who gave her his winning smile and said, “Thanks, darling. Have a  _ nice  _ day.”

 

“Uh, you too!” The woman called to their retreating backs.

 

They took the elevator the sixth floor, both in silence, anticipating what they might encounter. They gave measured steps to Eli’s room, not even bothering to stay silent. If Eli was there, then he'd have heard them coming a mile away, silent or no. 

 

Athelstan used the key, sliding it into the electric slot and watching as the light turned green, indicating it was unlocked. Athelstan grabbed the door handle and turned it, pushing it open. 

 

It was obvious the moment he stepped through the door, that no one was there. It was empty, save for the suitcases and the large collection of alcohol. The bed looked lived in and Athelstan could smell his scent, he had recently been here. There was also another scent, one he could almost place, like it was on the tip of his tongue but no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't come to him. 

 

“He's not here,” Athelstan sighed.

 

“No,” said Gyda, walking over to one of the oaken side tables and picked something up, “But I have a guess as to where he is.” She flashed a crisp white invitation card that read:

 

_ Eli Primus, you are Hereby Invited to the Queen’s Annual Christmas Party, hosted at Buckingham Palace on December 20th _

 

“Of course, Eli’s always schmoozing with the higher ups,” Athelstan sighed. 

 

“Well, I suppose we have a party to crash,” Gyda smirked.

 

“But first, we have to get appropriately dressed.”

* * *

They exited the car inside the gates of Buckingham Palace dressed to the nines. Athelstan was in a finely tailored suit, making him look every bit the gentleman people perceived him to be, and Gyda was wearing a lovely dress, with gold and silver embellishments all over it. It flowed down to the floor with a see through top layer. She looked absolutely gorgeous with her golden hair falling in perfect curls down her back.

 

They were obviously very late but neither of them cared. They were only there for one reason and one reason only: find Eli and get him to talk.

 

They walked up to the doorman, who asked for their invitations.

 

Athelstan made a show of patting his pockets, then smiled apologetically to the doorman, “I'm sorry, good sir. I believe I forgot our invitations at home.”

 

The doorman was not impressed, “Then you need to leave,  _ good sir _ , madam.”

 

He reached out a hand to escort them down the stairs but Athelstan swiftly grabbed it in a bruising grip.

 

“I may not have an invitation, but I  _ sorely  _ need to get in there.  _ Family business,  _ you know? Now, if you please,  _ invite us inside _ ,” Athelstan growled in the doorman’s ear.

 

The doorman went slack and nodded his head dumbly, “Of course. Please, do come in and have a  _ wonderful  _ time.”

 

Athelstan let go of him and patted him squarely on the shoulders, “There’s a good lad.” Then he held out an arm to Gyda, who took it without question, just like old times, “Shall we, sweet sister?”

 

Gyda giggled at him, “We shall, dear  _ brother _ .”

 

They walked inside Buckingham Palace and were escorted to the ballroom, where the tables were cleared and the people were either gliding around the room in dance or talking in clusters. The carpet was a blood red, which Athelstan thought was appropriate.

 

“Do you smell him?” He whispered to Gyda as they descended down the steps. They could feel eyes on them, as there always were when they entered a room.

 

“Of course,” smiled Gyda. “You can't miss the stench of arrogance and conceit.”

 

Athelstan snorted.

 

“Well, well, well,” They heard Eli call from the corner, a gaggle of admirers around him. He was downing a glass of champagne like it was blood, “If it isn't the life ruiner and his pretty little pet.”

 

Athelstan and Gyda glided up to him, a look of utter contempt on Gyda’s face.

 

“‘Life ruiner’?” Athelstan echoed. “I believe it was  _ you _ who ruined  _ my  _ life.”

 

“You were  _ dead _ , Athelstan. Your life couldn't have gotten any worse,” Eli shot back.

 

“Oh, but it did,” said Athelstan, smiling falsely.

 

“Whatever, Athelstan,” Eli took another offered glass of champagne and downed it quickly.

 

“What's up with you, Eli?” Gyda asked, mock concern. “Trying to forget what a horrible person you are?”

 

Eli laughed, “If that was the case, then we all need a drink. No, I'm not drinking because of that, I'm drinking because it's the end of the world and I want one last party!”

 

Athelstan looked at him, sharp, “What do you mean?”

 

“I know all about the spell you cast to bring back Ragnar, and how you brought back Lagertha as well, with only  _ one  _ sacrifice,” Eli spat.

 

“So?”

 

“ _ So... _ nature calls for a balance of power, one for one and so on and so forth. You gave one sacrifice and got back  _ two  _ people. That throws nature off course, and when nature is off course, the universe is thrown out of balance and when the universe is thrown out of balance, well…” Eli looked off.

 

“You’re lying!” Gyda spat.

 

“Am I?” Eli taunted. “Come on, Athelstan, you know I'm right. Have you  _ ever  _ seen me this scared?”

 

“Yes, actually, once,” replied Athelstan, though the feeling of dread that hadn't left his stomach since the ravens fell, grew considerably.

 

Eli growled but didn't make a comment, instead he said, “The ravens were only the first stage. There's worse to come, I can promise you that.”

 

Athelstan cracked his neck, “So what do we do?”

 

Eli laughed, loud, “Fucked if I know! I didn't even know this was possible until today! Well, done Athelstan, truly!”

 

“Oh, go to hell,” Athelstan spat.

 

“Already been there,” Eli replied drunkenly, actually throwing Athelstan off a little bit. “Maybe, once this is all over, we’ll see each other there.” And with that, he walked off, his gaggle of followers walking close behind.

 

Before Athelstan could descend into chaos, his phone rang. It was Ragnar. Athelstan steeled himself before answering.

 

“Hello?” He tried to play it cool.

 

“Hello? Hello?! Where are you, Athelstan? And  _ don't  _ tell me it's at the magick shop, because after it’d had been over an  _ hour  _ since you left, we went there ourselves and you weren't there, nor  _ had  _ you been there. So, want to tell me where you are?” Ragnar was pissed. Athelstan understood that, it just wasn't the time.

 

“We’re coming home, right now, okay? I promise I'll explain everything when we get home. I love y—” the line went dead and Athelstan’s heart dropped.

 

“He—he hung up on me,” he said dazedly to Gyda. His day was going from bad to worse.

 

“He's just mad,” Gyda said, rubbing his arm in a form of comfort. “You know he loves you, more than he loves himself.”

 

Athelstan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I know. I  _ hated  _ lying to him, and now I'm paying the price.”

 

“Well, let's go home and explain everything. How, according to your jealous vampire ex—”

 

“He's  _ not  _ my ex,” Athelstan snapped.

 

“Whatever. According to  _ Eli _ , the world is going to end, and it’s all our fault,” Gyda laughed nervously.

 

“My fault,” Athelstan amended. “I'm the one who cast the spell.”

 

“But I helped, so it's both our faults. Accept that, you’re not taking the blame alone. I won't let you. Now come on, time to face the music.”

 

They left the party, breezing out and back into their car, where they sat in silence until they arrived back at Athelstan’s townhouse. Athelstan could sense that the others were inside and could feel they were all pissed off, especially Ragnar.

 

Gyda grabbed Athelstan’s hand before he unlocked the door, giving him strength. He braced himself, then pushed it open, letting whatever was about to happen, happen.

 

Ragnar rounded on him the minute they came to the door, “Explain. Now.”

 

Athelstan sighed and looked at Gyda, who nodded, “We...didn't go to the magick shop—”

 

“No shit!” scoffed Alfred, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

 

“We went—to go find  _ Eli _ .”

 

The room exploded.

 

“What?!” yelled Ragnar, Lagertha, and Alfred in unison.

 

“Why?!” Ragnar demanded, coming up on Athelstan, grabbing him and shaking him hard. “Am I not enough?”

 

A bit of the demon inside Athelstan was still lingering on the surface and angered at the way Ragnar touched him, grabbing his arms and twisting them away, causing him to cry out in pain. 

 

Hearing that cry jarred Athelstan out of whatever state he'd been in and he hastened to apologize, “Ragnar, I'm so sorry! God, I'm so sorry.” Ragnar waved off his apologies, acknowledging that he had baited him.

 

“Of course, you are enough! We just needed answers,” Athelstan continued, once he was certain Ragnar was not angry with him for hurting him.

 

“Answers to what?” Lagertha asked.

 

“Why the ravens fell,” Gyda explained.

 

“And?” Alfred prompted. “Did that arsehole have an explanation.”

 

“Yes,” Athelstan sighed. “It's the end of the world...and it's all my fault.” His voice broke and tears gathered in his eyes.

 

Seeing Athelstan on the verge of tears made Ragnar forget the anger he had and he took him into his arms, Athelstan calming considerably once Ragnar had  _ finally  _ touched him.

 

“You mean,  _ Ragnarok _ ?” whispered Lagertha aghast.

 

“I don't think so, Mother,” said Gyda. “I think this is something  _ different _ .”

 

“Well—well, what do we do?” Alfred stuttered. He kept glancing at his satchel nervously.

 

Athelstan laughed without humor, “I don't know—I don't know.” He buried his face in Ragnar’s neck and he held him close, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

 

“It's going to be okay,” Ragnar whispered. “I swear, it's going to be okay.”

 

“How can you say that?” Athelstan sobbed. “You didn't even tell me you loved me earlier!”

 

Ragnar twisted his face, “I know. I know, my love. I'm sorry, Athelstan. I love you, I swear I do.”

 

“You promise?” Athelstan whimpered, hating himself for feeling so weak.

 

“I promise. Now come on,” he began pulling Athelstan upstairs.

 

“You’re going upstairs? To have sex? At a time like this?!” Alfred was incredulous.

 

“My love is hurting, so before all else, I am going to heal him. We can figure out a solution tomorrow.”

 

“There might not  _ be  _ a tomorrow!”

 

Ragnar gave a searching look outside the window, “Looks all right now.”

 

Alfred started to say something else, but Lagertha touched his shoulder, “Let them go.”

 

Ragnar gave her a thankful look and pulled Athelstan up the stairs and into his room. He sat him down onto the bed, where Athelstan immediately curled under the covers.

 

“Uh-uh,” Ragnar wagged a finger. “Let's get those clothes off first.”

 

“It's my fault,” Athelstan muttered hopelessly. “It's my fault.”

 

“It's not you—”

 

“Would everyone quit telling me that?!” Athelstan screamed, sitting up, his eyes red and black, his fangs protruding. “It  _ is  _ my fault!  _ I'm _ the one who cast the spell!  _ I'm  _ the one who was selfish, who didn't want to be alone anymore, even though I deserve it.”

 

Ragnar sat down on the bed beside him, taking his head in his hands, “No, no my love.”

 

“You don't understand!” Athelstan screamed. He jumped off the bed, “I'm a MONSTER! You should have seen me today, slipping into my monster skin like it was old hat! And you know something? _I_ _enjoyed it_ ,” he hissed, feeling horrified at his admission. 

 

“Athelstan,” Ragnar tried to placate, holding out his arms in a peace offering gesture, “I don't care how you act now. You've lived over  _ a thousand years  _ without me, I'd be more concerned if you hadn't changed. I love  _ you _ , all of you. The sweet, innocent you. The dirty you. The vampire you.  _ All of it _ . You loved me, despite everything, right?”

 

Athelstan calmed a bit, “Yes…”

 

Ragnar raised his arms in a ‘well, there you go’ movement, “And I don't care if it's your fault that the end of the world is apparently happening. All I care about is that we’re together, despite all odds, and we are going to fight together, understand? I love you, okay? I  _ love  _ you.”

 

“I love you too,” Athelstan sobbed, the tears running down his face thick and hot.

 

Ragnar came around the bed and drew him into his arms, wiping at his tears. 

 

“And if you want to be more like your vampire self, I won't stop you, and I won't be mad,” Ragnar promised, kissing his head.

 

“We’ll see, if the world doesn't end,” said Athelstan, resting his head in the crook of Ragnar’s neck, loving that he smelled like home.

 

After a moment of just enjoying the feeling of being in each other's arms, Ragnar spoke, “Come now, let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed.”

 

“I'm not tired,” said Athelstan stubbornly, when the truth was, he was  _ exhausted _ , and he knew Ragnar knew that.

 

Ragnar only smirked and pulled him into the bathroom, gesturing for him to strip. Athelstan tried to do it sexily, never one to turn down the opportunity for sex with Ragnar, but his heart just wasn't in it tonight. Ragnar turned on the shower, completely hot. 

 

They stepped in together and Ragnar washed away all of Athelstan’s sins, or at least it felt that way, with the tender way he cared for him. Athelstan felt like crying all over again, but held it in, knowing that'd only make him dirtier. Ragnar held him close, burying his nose in Athelstan’s wet curls and tried not to cry himself, feeling the weight of the end of the world falling on him. 

 

He'd only just gotten Athelstan back, why'd it have to be this way? He vowed to himself that he would do whatever was in his power to reverse it. He couldn't lose him all over again.

 

Afterwards, Ragnar dressed Athelstan in his comfiest pajamas and ordered him to bed, Athelstan going willingly. They curled up together, with Athelstan’s head on Ragnar’s chest. Ragnar traced patterns on Athelstan’s skin, both of them finding comfort in each other until both of them fell asleep.

* * *

Athelstan stirred awake late the next afternoon, apparently needing more rest than he thought. He was confused when he didn't feel Ragnar’s comforting presence next to him. He panicked for a second before he felt a piece of paper on Ragnar’s pillow. He picked it up and saw Ragnar’s adorable scrawl.

 

_ My love, _

_ We have gone to go stock up on blood bags. We won't be gone long. There's some remaining bags in the fridge if you want a drink. Tobias should be on his way soon but we’ll be back before then. _

_ I love you _

 

Athelstan’s heart clenched at the sentiment, standing up to get dressed for the day, when he heard movement downstairs. It wasn't the sound of the door opening, no it was the sound of someone sitting—lounging on the couch.

 

He flashed downstairs, about to pounce on whoever it was that  _ dared  _ enter his home uninvited, when he was stopped short in his tracks. 

 

He—he couldn't move!

 

He heard someone chuckle and forced his head to look was on the couch. It was a woman, a very gorgeous woman. She was all leg, with long, curly red hair that cascaded down one of her shoulders. Her blood red lips were twitched in a smirk and her emerald green eyes sparkled with mischief. There was an aura of danger that surrounded her.

 

“Hello, Athelstan,” she said, raising a crystal glass of blood to her lips. “I believe we've never had the pleasure of meeting.

 

I'm  _ Lilith _ .”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I don't know when I'll update again, I'm getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow and I'll be out of commission for about a week! UGH! But I will most likely be writing in my recovery, so expect updates as soon as I'm well again! Wish me luck!
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely comments, I really appreciate it! My readers are definitely the best! 
> 
> *Also, idk if the Queen of England hosts an annual Christmas party at Buckingham Palace, I just figured if there WAS one, Eli would definitely have procured an invite...he likes to rub elbows with the rich and powerful lol


	5. FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, I'm back? I'm so sorry it feels like I abandoned this story but I have not, I promise! I suffered a great writer's block for this story, and still do a little bit, but I'm trying to power through it:)
> 
> I hope you like this chapter!:)

Athelstan couldn't speak. He couldn't move his arms or his legs. He couldn't do anything but just stare at this woman— _ Lilith _ —with a dumbstruck expression on his face. He was completely rooted to the spot at the bottom of the stairs, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Lilith was the cause.

 

Was this the Lilith from the tale he’d heard from Leon so long ago, the first woman created by God? Looking at her, he believed. She looked exactly as he described, beautiful in every way, with eyes that shone like the dewy grass on a hilltop, and a sinister look about her that made weaker men fall to their knees.

 

But Athelstan was  _ not  _ weak.

 

Not anymore.

 

“Oh, do forgive me, I've put you in quite a  _ bind,  _ haven't I?” Lilith giggled and with a wave of her hand, he was released from whatever was holding him in place.

 

“What do you want?” He demanded.

 

Lilith smirked at him and crossed her legs, her velvet red dress riding up a bit around her thighs, exposing creamy white skin, “Not one to beat around the bush. I like it. You understand who I am, correct?”

 

“You are the Mother of Vampires,” said Athelstan. “You cohort with the Devil.”

 

She smiled, “Yes, I am. And yes, I do. He's why I'm here, actually. He's quite angry with you.”

 

“Is this because of the spell? Because I—”

 

“Started the apocalypse? Yes,” she said. “If you know your theology, which I have a feeling you do, you know why he can't have that.”

 

“Because God will come and defeat him,” said Athelstan. “Good.”

 

Lilith shot up off the couch and uttered angry words in a language he couldn't place. He figured it was some sort of demon speech, for the way it spat out of her tongue like venom.

 

“ _ Don't  _ say that bastard’s name!” She screamed in English, her eyes going a blaze of red and black. “ _ He's  _ a senile old coot!”

 

Athelstan felt the danger radiating off of her in waves and decided to take it down a notch, he couldn't have Ragnar come home to his dead body laying lifeless on the floor, his heart ripped out of his chest.

 

He raised his hands in a pacifying manner, “Alright. I won't say  _ His _ name.”

 

Lilith closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose. When she opened her eyes again, they were back to their normal, startling green. She quirked a smile.

 

“Forgive me,” she said. “I  _ do  _ hate hearing that  _ bastardis _ ’ name. It brings back  _ unpleasant  _ memories.”

 

Athelstan assumed she was talking about when God had her cast out of Eden when she refused to submit to Adam. Seeing her now, he couldn't imagine her submitting to anyone, even God. Or the Devil.

 

“Why do you work for him?” Athelstan asked, referring to Devil.

 

“For Satan?” She seemed utterly confused by his question, like why would anyone question her about that. “Because, he saved my life.”

 

“Or damned it,” Athelstan muttered under his breath, but Lilith caught it.

 

She gave a cold smile and sipped the blood out of her crystal glass, “I was damned the moment  _ He  _ kicked me out of Eden. I was just... _ evening  _ the score.”

 

“Do you love him?”

 

Lilith laughed, “ _ Love? _ Love isn't something he and I have.”

 

“What do you have?”

 

“An understanding. A  _ partnership _ .”

 

Athelstan stood quiet for a moment before asking the question he'd been having the moment he saw Lilith, “What does  _ he  _ want me to do about this…”

 

“Catastrophe?” offered Lilith. She shrugged her milky white shoulders, her bright red hair falling behind her back, “I don't know. He wants to meet you, in person.”

 

Athelstan stilled, a chill going down his spine.

 

“When?” He ground out.

 

Lilith smiled, “After Christmas, around the new year.”

 

“Why the wait? Why not come to me himself, now?”

 

“As you can imagine, the Devil is a busy man. He's concerning himself with easing the tensions  _ your  _ mess made, and besides, he can't be on the mortal world during Christmas. In fact, neither of us can be.”

 

“Why?”

 

Lilith pursed her lips before answering, “Because it is a widely celebrated  _ Christian  _ holiday, our powers our weakened on that day.”

 

_ Interesting _ .

 

“So, I'm just supposed to wait idly by until Lu—”

 

“ _ Don't say his name _ !” Lilith snapped. “You are unworthy of it.”

 

Athelstan curled his lip in annoyance, “Until  _ Satan  _ decides to  _ grace  _ me with his presence.”

 

Lilith gave a wide smile, “Basically.”

 

Athelstan toyed with the sun ring on his finger, feeling the panic rise once again but he didn't want it to show, especially in front of Lilith. He knew she'd be widely amused by his distress.

 

“Is that all you needed to relay to me?” Athelstan asked instead.

 

Lilith gulped down the rest of her blood, “Yes, it is. And oh! Seems like your little family is home.”

 

Athelstan pricked his ears barely hearing 

his Aston Martin drive about 10 blocks down the street. The fact that Lilith could hear that was begrudgingly impressive. He heard it approach rapidly, soon pulling up into the driveway. Lilith set the crystal glass down onto the the black oak coffee table and settled back into the couch.

 

Athelstan started to go into full-blown panic mode when he heard Gyda, Ragnar, Lagertha, and Alfred get out of the car and walk up the steps to the townhouse. If Lilith didn't get out of there  _ now,  _ Athelstan would have to do  _ a lot  _ of explaining to do.

 

Lilith smirked at him; she could read the panic on his face plain as day.

 

“It was  _ so nice  _ to meet you properly, Athelstan. I believe we will meet again soon,” and with that, she was gone in a flash of black light, there one minute, gone the next. 

 

At that moment, the door unlocked and Ragnar and the others walked in. Ragnar was engaged in conversation with Gyda, helping her carry a large freezer full of blood bags into the house. When he saw Athelstan, he immediately brightened.

 

“My love!” He called, then he paused, seeing the look on his face, “What's wrong?”

 

Athelstan turned his head, closing his eyes. He decided he needed to be truthful, it would be better than invite more tragedy into this house if he didn't. 

 

“I had...a  _ visitor _ today,” he spoke slowly, barely looking him in the eye.

 

Gyda and Ragnar dropped the cooler.

 

“What visitor?” Ragnar asked.

 

Athelstan paused. To speak this out loud would make it true, which would be the worst possible thing in the world, but he had to. 

 

“ _ Lilith _ ,” he whispered.

 

Gyda gasped, raising her hands to her mouth, “ _ No! _ ”

 

“Who's Lilith?” Lagertha asked.

 

“The Devil’s partner and the Mother of Vampires,” said Alfred, looking extremely perturbed.

 

Gyda and Athelstan looked at him, surprised.

 

“What?” He shrugged. “I heard the stories in my travels of the world.”

 

“What did she want?” Ragnar asked, coming to Athelstan and cradling his face in his hands. “Did she hurt you?”

 

“No,” Athelstan shook his head, feeling a bit better having Ragnar near him. “No, she was issuing a warning.”

 

“A warning? Of what?”

 

“ _ He's  _ coming.”

 

Silence. 

 

Then,

 

“The Devil?!” Gyda nearly screamed.

 

“I don't know if I would consider myself a ‘devil’, but…” came a southern accented voice from the doorway of the townhouse.

 

Gyda spun around, “Tobias?!”

 

The tall, blonde man smiled and held out his arms, “Hello, darlin’.”

 

She jumped into his arms, her worries forgotten for the moment as she kissed him deeply, much to amusement of Alfred and the discomfort of Athelstan and Ragnar. Lagertha was just happy to see her daughter happy. 

 

“I'm so glad you’re here!” She exclaimed. “Because we have a problem, a really  _ bad  _ problem.”

 

He eased her down, “Well, there's no problem I can't fix, what's the problem, darlin’?”

 

“You know how the dead ravens fell yesterday?” She asked.

 

Tobias nodded his long blonde head.

 

“Well, apparently, it means that it's the end of the world and now the Devil wants a word with Athelstan and presumably  _ me _ , since I helped with the spell,” said Gyda.

 

“No,” Athelstan stepped forward. “He can do whatever he wants with me, but he  _ cannot  _ touch you.”

 

Tobias nodded, a spark of respect shining in his eye when he looked at Athelstan, “I second that. Well, this sounds like a real conundrum.”

 

“Hold on a second, hold on!” Ragnar held up a hand, grabbing Athelstan. “He's not going have  _ you  _ either.”

 

“He's not going to have anyone,” said Lagertha, her voice brokering no argument. “Did she say when he was coming?”

 

“Sometime after Christmas,” said Athelstan.

 

“Oh, good,” said Gyda sarcastically. “We get to enjoy some nice family holiday cheer before he rips it away.”

 

“He's not going to rip anything away!” Lagertha was adamant. “We can—we can do something. We must!”

 

“Like what?” Athelstan demanded, his vampiric side starting to scratch at his insides, itching to get out. “He's the Devil, for Christsake!”

 

Gyda saw his struggle and came to him, grabbing his hand, “Athelstan— _ Athelstan _ ! We will figure something out, I promise. We can use that big brain of yours.”

 

Athelstan took a deep, unneeded breath, steadying himself, before opening his eyes and smiling unsteadily at her.

 

“Thank you,” he mouthed to Gyda, who nodded.

 

“So!” Alfred clapped his hands. “What do we do?”

 

\----

 

They ended up scouring through Athelstan’s library, searching for anything useful.

 

“This is not how I imagined my welcome to go,” joked Tobias nervously as he thumbed through a copy of blood rituals.

 

“Well, forgive me,” replied Athelstan, an edge to his tone.

 

“Hey,” Tobias raised a hand in a placating gesture, “I’m not complainin’, jus’ sayin’.”

 

Gyda knocked Athelstan’s shoulder, warning him with her eyes to play nice or she would make him play nice. Athelstan said nothing and threw another useless book behind him before searching for another one.

 

“Argh! There's nothing here!” yelled Alfred, swiping a book off the table in the middle of the room in anger.

 

“I know,” gritted Athelstan. It was useless, all of it, useless.

 

“All I can find is that the Devil is a really, really bad guy,  _ which  _ we already knew,” said Tobias, throwing one of Athelstan’s many Bibles onto the large growing pile of books.

 

“Wait,” Athelstan picked up the Bible he threw into the pile. He thumbed to the back, to the book of Revelation. He began speed reading all the way through the chapters, until he was at the end.

 

“What?” Ragnar asked, “What are you doing?”

 

“Brushing up on my apocalypse knowledge,” said Athelstan, his eyes never leaving the pages. “It says here that first to come are the Horsemen.”

 

“Horsemen?” Ragnar questioned.

 

“They bring about death, destruction, hunger, the like,” explained Athelstan. “There are four of them, the first to come being Conquest.”

 

“But we haven't heard anything unusual like that,” said Gyda, crossing her arms.

 

“Not yet,” amended Athelstan. “I would believe that the apocalypse likes to take its time, so to speak.”

 

“Is there anything in that Bible of yours on how to stop it?” Lagertha asked.

 

Tobias, Alfred, and Athelstan all looked uneasy. They were the only three with extensive knowledge on the subject of Christianity and they all knew this much: the apocalypse was inevitable and unstoppable.

 

“No,” said Athelstan. “At least,  _ in here _ , once it has started, it cannot and will not be stopped.”

 

“But you said Lilith said that the Devil was coming to ‘negotiate’ a way out,” said Gyda.

 

“I wouldn't doubt that he knows things about the apocalypse that we mere former humans know,” said Athelstan, snapping his Bible shut.

 

“Why don't we just...hear him out?” Alfred suggested.

 

Everyone in the room looked at him in disbelief.

 

“ _ Hear him out _ ?!” Gyda enraged. “Are you mad? He's the Devil, I doubt he just wants to  _ talk! _ ”

 

“Gyda’s right,” said Athelstan. “There's no way he's not doing with without an ulterior motive.”

 

“Yeah,” said Alfred. “He probably doesn't want what happens to him to happen...you know what happens to him in the end.”

 

“What happens?” Ragnar asked.

 

“He gets  _ imprisoned  _ in Hell for all eternity,” said Athelstan.

 

“Well, that's good, right?” Ragnar asked.

 

“The world is destroyed in the process,” said Athelstan, “and we along with it. I doubt  _ God  _ would let us  _ abominations  _ live.”

 

“Oh,” said Ragnar. 

 

The room is silent.

 

They don’t feel a presence with them, watching their every move.

* * *

 

The house was lush, with thick, plush red carpets and black painted walls, all covered in mirrors and paintings depicting destruction and death.

 

Heavy bass was thumping throughout the place and the lights are dimmed a deep, blood red, casting the whole house in a devilish light.

 

Bodies, in various states of undress, were undulating about the place, moving in unison. A man entered the house silently, not even bothering to notice the people in their one tangled orgy of passion.

 

The man, impeccably dressed in a pressed black suit, his black hair curled around his face in ringlets and light beard dusting his face, moved through the bodies as smoothly as a snake, there for one purpose and one purpose only.

 

That purpose was currently lounged in a gilded, liquid black chair seated on a pedestal in the back of the room, with a woman with stunning red hair beside him, his hand grazing over her hip. The man in the chair looked utterly bored, though his face lit up slightly at the sight of the man moving through the crowd.

 

“Aristophanes!” He called, waving him over with a hand curled around a crystal glass filled with blood.

 

Aristophanes went before the Throne, for that is what it is, and knelt before him. “My King,” he said humbly, looking down at the red carpet.

 

“Rise,” said the man in the chair. “You don’t always have to be so formal with me, you know.”

 

“Forgive me,” said Aristophanes as he rose from the floor as smooth as silk, not a wrinkle in sight. “Old habit.”

 

The man smiled. It was a beautiful thing, thought Aristophanes, his smile. It called all manner of men to their knees, beckoning them forward with their greatest desires, promising the whole world with only one thing to give in return.

 

Your soul.

 

Aristophanes gave his willingly, a better price to pay than the Hell he was living oh, so many years ago. He gave his soul and his life to this man, and he never once looked back.

 

“I trust you have good news?”

 

“Yes, my King. Athelstan and his merry band of vampires are trying to find a way to reverse the apocalypse,” Aristophanes said.

 

“Oh?” The man did not sound surprised, in fact he looked like he absolutely expected this.

 

“They are looking in all the wrong places, though.”

 

“I’m sure,” laughed the man. “They don’t have the  _ knowledge _ that we do.” He shared a smirk with the woman to his left. “It won’t matter. All Athelstan has to do is as I say, and this whole mess will be averted.”

 

“And if he doesn’t?” The woman asked.

 

“Aristophanes knows what to do, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, my King.”

 

“Good,” The man purred, then he fluidly stood up from his Throne and offered a hand to Aristophanes. “Come, Aristophanes. I have a  _ present  _ for you.”

 

Aristophanes took the proffered hand and allowed the man to lead him away from the bodies, coming to a door at the end of the room. When opened, there was a long set of stairs that led downwards and the man pulled him along.

 

“You’ve been such a  _ good  _ little demon for me, Aristophanes. In fact, you’ve always been a good demon, ever since you called me forth. Do you remember that?”

 

He would always remember that.

 

He had been living in Hell, so to speak, ever since he was a boy and his mother sold him to the pleasure for a few lousy drachmas. He had always been a pretty little thing, so it was no surprise when someone snatched him up. A greasy highborn of Greece, who liked little boys.

 

Oh, how Aristophanes hated the man.

 

He was forced into sexual slavery for most of his human life, always getting a beating if he didn’t do as he was told, which was often. Aristophanes was an insolent little slave, but his  _ master  _ liked that.

 

When he wasn’t expected to spread his legs, he was supposed to work around the villa, cleaning here and there with the maids. It was during one of these times, that Aristophanes had come upon it.

 

He was dusting the library, ignoring the ache in his backside as he usually did, when the wind gusted through the open windows and rustled some pieces of parchment by the floor. One in particular got caught under Aristophanes’ foot.

 

He looked down, and saw an odd symbol inked upon it. Curious, he leaned over and picked it up. Aristophanes considered himself a lucky slave in one aspect: he could read.

 

His dark brown eyes flitted over the parchment, taking in the words. It was some kind of  _ summoning  _ ritual, for what Aristophanes did not know, but the bottom line is what made him pause and tuck it away for later:

 

_ Summon Him and all your darkest fantasies will become reality. _

 

Aristophanes had always been a believer in the other, that there were supernatural beings out there flitted in and among the lives of the mere mortals, giving and taking as they saw fit. He believed in them, he just didn’t really think they believed in him.

 

Aristophanes tucked the piece of parchment away, soon to be forgotten, until one fateful day.

 

As his master's favorite pleasure slave, Aristophanes was forbidden to be in physical contact with anyone whom the master deemed inappropriate. But Aristophanes had feelings, oh yes, and those feelings came in the form of a beautiful man who kept the master’s garden in peak condition.

 

Aristophanes ensnared the man with the tricks he’d picked up through his years in service and soon they were like two lovers courting, only secret and in the dead of night when no one was around. They thought they were getting away with it, until one day, the master dragged the poor man out into the central villa and had him beaten to death while he made Aristophanes watch, before tying him to whipping post and taking the skin off his back.

 

Aristophanes did not give his master the satisfaction of his tears and his cries of pain while they whipped away his flesh, oh no. He gritted his teeth and endured, all the while thinking of all the ways he could kill his master before joining his love in the underworld. 

 

As he laid gingerly in his bed that night, the tears finally making an appearance in his eyes after the medic had come and applied the salves to his ruined back, his hand curled under his pillow and he felt the long forgotten piece of parchment.

 

Renewed with a manic strength, he pulled the piece of parchment out from underneath his pillow and ran his eyes over the words once more.

 

He now knew what he needed to do.

 

He slipped out of his bed, fighting on despite the pain in his back, and stole a knife from the kitchens before going out into the garden beyond, the beautiful garden which his love had always so tenderly cared for, and found his body laying in a ditch, broken and vended beyond repair.

 

With great strength that Aristophanes didn’t even know he possessed, he pulled his lover from the ditch and dragged him into the workshop, which was blessedly empty. He laid him upon the workbench and drew his knife, not feeling a thing as he cut through his lover’s flesh and bone, until he found what he was looking for:

 

His heart.

 

He plucked it out with bloody hands and laid it in a wooden bowl. He took two stones that he had stolen from the garden and struck them together until they formed a flame, setting the heart on fire and burning it to darkened black. 

 

The pungent fumes filled the air as Aristophanes read the words from the parchment out loud, dipping his hands into his lover’s blood and baptizing himself on the forehead with it. He closed his eyes, and welcomed whatever it was he summoned to him.

 

At first, nothing happened, and Aristophanes was afraid that he put his faith into some old piece of parchment, when he felt something cold and slippery slither up his leg.

 

Startled, he looked down and saw the faint outline of something great and dark, shining with black scales, entwine his body and staring at him with cold, lidless eyes before slithering off his shoulder and onto the table where his lover lay, split open and dead.

 

The thing coiled itself around and around until it was eye level with Aristophanes before it transformed before his very eyes. It was a man, a beautiful, beautiful, shining man. His naked skin was like that of the statues his master had in his villa, smooth and marble-like in texture. His eyes were of the deepest blue of the ocean and his hair was as golden as the sun.

 

“Are you—are you a God?” Aristophanes had asked.

 

The man laughed, a glorious thing and said, “No, my brightest, I am not. I am something  _ much worse _ .”

 

“Who—who are you?”

 

“I have many names, brightest, but you may call me  _ Lucifer _ .”

 

“Lucifer,” Aristophanes echoed, tasting the name on his tongue.

 

“I have seen your troubles, Aristophanes. I know why you suffer and why you have called me forth.”

 

“Can you help me?”

 

“I can,” Lucifer smiled, dazzling and bright. “I can give you what your heart desires most:  _ revenge  _ and  _ power _ .”

 

“And—what must I give in return?”

 

“Nothing much,” Lucifer replied. “Just bind yourself to me for all eternity and I promise you, those who have harmed you will die  _ screaming _ . Do we have a deal?”

 

Aristophanes couldn’t say no. He had nothing left. He held out his palm to accept his offer but Lucifer tutted. He pulled out an intricate blade, seemingly out of nowhere. The metal was as black as night and the handle as red as flame, with encrusted rubies. Without a hiss or any other sign that he was hurt, he sliced open his perfect palm then offered the blade to Aristophanes to do the same.

 

Aristophanes took the blade and made an incision in his left palm, hissing through his teeth as the blood beaded out. He handed the blade back to Lucifer who threw it in the air and it vanished. Aristophanes barely had time to process that feat before Lucifer was taking his hand in his own and everything  _ changed _ .

 

Aristophanes body had surged upwards, his body arching towards the sky as this dark power shot through him before Lucifer let go of his hand and Aristophanes was sent backwards onto the floor, where his heart was pounding in his ears, louder and faster than he had ever felt it. Pain courses through his body as he felt himself change.

 

“What’s happening to me?” He had ground out to Lucifer, who watched him writhe on the floor with an impassive look on his face.

 

“You’re dying,” said Lucifer simply. “It happens.”

 

Aristophanes could barely register the words as his heart pounded so loudly in his ears that it drowned everything else out. He was in such pain that he screwed his eyes shut and willed for himself to just die. 

 

And he did.

 

He didn’t know how long he stayed dead on the ground, but he woke, gasping for breath that he no longer needed. His body felt healed, stronger than it had ever been alive. His eyes flicked open with the sound of an insect’s wings, and he looked around the room and saw everything.

 

He saw his lover’s body on the table of the workshop, and traced every little crevice and imperfection with emotionless eyes. He thought his sudden emotionless state should have frightened him, but it didn’t. He felt nothing, as he did before, only different,  _ darker _ .

 

Lucifer was still standing there, watching him as he rose with a grace he never knew he possessed, and smiled a beautiful smile that brightened the very room they stood in. “Oh, how beautiful you are, my brightest. My Aristophanes.”

 

Aristophanes was overcome with this feeling, this one, singular feeling, that he needed to please Lucifer. Make him happy. Make him smile that dazzling smile for him, and only him.

 

“Go,” Lucifer had said, motioning to the door. “Exact your revenge. Then come back to me and we’ll go away together. You serve me now, and only me.”

 

“Yes, master,” said Aristophanes, bowing his head but Lucifer tutted again.

 

“I am your King,” He said. “Not your master. Now go.”

 

And go he did. He found his old master sleeping in his bed and murdered him delightfully, ripping open his insides with his razor sharp nails and tearing off his dick with his bare hands and stuffing it into his mouth as he screamed and screamed.

 

From that day on, Aristophanes followed Lucifer, and he never once regretted it. Nor would he ever.

 

“Yes,” Aristophanes said, pulling himself out of the memory and glancing at his King. “I remember.”

 

They came to the bottom of the stairs and entered a dark, dank, musty room, filled with grime and dirt. A far cry from what was upstairs. It the corner of the room, chained to an old-fashioned rack, was a naked man, portly in size. At the sight of Aristophanes and his King, the man began to tremble and rattle his chains in a futile attempt to get free. Aristophanes watched him struggle with blank brown eyes.

 

“This man,” said Aristophanes’ King, “thought he could get out of deal with me by offering me something as  _ benign  _ as money.” His King sneered. “When I refused, he offered his daughter’s body, who is only eight years of age.”

 

Aristophanes tilted his head at this disgusting man. And they called  _ him  _ the demon. “I figured,” said his King, “that you would enjoy  _ playing  _ with him. You’ve always been my best torturer.”

 

Aristophanes smiled at him. “It would be my pleasure, my King.”

 

“Good. Even as the apocalypse dawns on us, we still must do our job. I trust you’ll make him scream?”

 

“I’ll make him  _ sing _ ,” Aristophanes promised.

 

His King lifted a perfect hand and trailed it across Aristophanes cheek in a gentle manner, before cupping his chin. “My brightest,” He said. “You always make me proud.”

 

“Always.”

 

His King smiled before patting his cheek lightly and sweeping out of the room, leaving Aristophanes to his pleasure. He lightly stalked up the man on the rack and watched with detached fascination as he trembled when Aristophanes ran a finger down his ugly face. A tear escape his eye and Aristophanes gathered it with his finger, bringing it to his lips. Tears always fascinated him, for he hadn’t shed one in thousands of years.

 

“Are you afraid?” He whispered to the man.

 

The man nodded his head jerkily, his voice betraying him. 

 

“Good,” Aristophanes said. “You should be.”

 

And with that, he discarded his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and got to work, selecting a hooked knife and waving it under the man’s face. He ran it down his belly lightly, then, without warning, carved it into his soft flesh, blood pouring out and the man’s screams reverberating through the room.

 

Aristophanes smiled and his eyes turned as black as midnight, his dark soul reflecting in the dark orbs. The man screamed all the more loudly and it was music to his ears. 

 

He had made him sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tobias - Charlie Hunnam  
> Aristophanes - Kit Harington  
> Lucifer - Christopher Mason  
> Lilith - Rachelle Lefevre


End file.
